#just in case bc its very bright

[orionis13]

Ankarna

[mggslover]

MORE TO LOVE

In which Spencer proves to you how much he loves your big breasts.

pairing spencer reid x gf!reader genre smut (18+) cw reader has big breasts and is insecure bc of porn standards, just 6k words of tit worship: tit play, tit sucking, tit fucking. lots of teasing, oral (f receiving), p in v, cum play, creampie, reader wears a dress and lingerie, spencer is clingy and horny, spencer and reader are slightly tipsy, soft!dom!spence wc 6,3k a/n for my big tit girls <3 i hope someone can relate to this, and if you don't, i hope you can still enjoy! thank u lovely @esote-rika for proofreading

Everyone who’s had the honor of meeting Spencer Reid in an informal setting is aware of the fact that he isn’t a drinker. You’d score an indefinite amount of points in his book if you have something besides alcohol to offer. And Spencer isn’t picky — some trail mix in a bowl works as a good enough replacement. 

So, being surprised was an understatement when Spencer suggested coming to the bar where you were having drinks with your friends. The case he was on got wrapped up quicker than anticipated. He was about to walk to your apartment to spend the night with you when he remembered you were out with friends. 

It was the plan to pick you up and walk you home, making some light conversation with your friends while he was at it (for the amount of months you’d been dating, he should invest more time in getting to know the people who are close to you). He hadn’t planned on drinking, even surprising himself when he downed the two shots of liquor that one of your friends handed him. But he had no choice. Not when he walked into the bar and noticed you dancing in the crowd. Not when you were wearing that tiny black dress that was on his mind ever since he’d found it in your closet. Not when you turned around, your eyes twinkling and a bright smile tugging at your lips when you noticed him. And certainly not when his gaze had lowered and landed on the cleavage that was close to spilling out of your dress. He truly needed the liquid courage to get through the night. 

Now, standing on the corner outside of the bar, waiting for an Uber, you didn’t even notice the cold of the night as your body buzzed with the warmth of alcohol in your system combined with Spencer’s touches. He stood close to you, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder as he pressed gentle kisses to the curve of your neck — acting uncharacteristically clingy now that there’s alcohol in his system. 

“So this is the real reason why you don’t drink, huh?” You ask Spencer in a chuckle, feigning annoyance while actually feeling very flattered by his sudden clinginess, which he rarely displays when sober. 

“You’re just so pretty.” He says in a lack of a better explanation. 

He had his palm placed flat on your stomach, the heat of him radiating through the thin fabric of your dress. He squeezed the soft skin before his hand moved up your body at a concerningly fast speed.

“Hey there, mister,” you say in a playful warning, placing your hand on top of his to stop him in his tracks. “We’re still in public. Remember?”

He grumbled some incoherent words as his fingers toyed with the underwire of your bra.  “I like this dress.”

You smile, a flush creeping up your neck, glad he can’t see how much you’re enjoying this. “Yeah?” 

He hums in confirmation. “I’d like it even better off of you.”

The flush has now found its way to your cheeks, heating your skin as your heartbeat raced.

He presses a kiss to your jawline. “Bet you’d look so pretty.”

Your cheeks were on fire at this point. The butterflies in your stomach set free. 

“Want to see you naked.”

Then, everything comes to a halt.

“N-naked?”

He nods against your neck, his soft curls nuzzling you. 

Spencer doesn’t notice the way you tense up. To be fair, he’s not noticing any of his surroundings, completely focused on the way you feel in his grasp. 

His statement wasn’t weird. It shouldn’t have thrown you off like it did. He’s been your boyfriend for over three months — nearing the four-month mark — and you’ve had sex a lot of times. Still, he has never seen you naked. At least, not completely. 

All the times you’d had sex, you kept your bra on. They were cute bras, sexy lingerie sets that had cost you a fortune — specifically because the bra sizes you were looking for were like trying to find a signed limited edition of Kafka’s Metamorphosis. (You spoke from experience, having fought everyone on the internet to get a copy for Spencer’s birthday). All this effort was to hide one thing, well, two things really: your breasts. And it worked. Spencer was always hypnotized the second you took your top off. He had asked before if he could take your bra off, but when you rationally responded with, “It was so expensive, it would be a waste to take it off,” he always agreed, cupping your tits through the lacy fabric and forgetting why he ever complained. 

This is a good example that shows how considerate Spencer is. He’d let the subject slide with every weak excuse you made, never asking any prying questions. You knew it didn’t make sense to think Spencer would be turned off by the way your breasts look without a bra. He is obsessed with them covered, let alone when they’re not, your friends had told you. Still, doubt gnawed at you. He was a man. Men watch porn. You knew of his exes, how they have a different body type from yours. You were just afraid you’d shatter the illusion — that he’d be disappointed when he found out that your breasts aren’t as perky without support, how your nipples aren't placed symmetrically in the middle, how stretch marks covered the skin. 

“Are you alright?”

Spencer’s voice rattles you out of your thoughts. You swallow. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

The knuckle of his index finger tilts your chin, coercing you to look at him. His eyes looked sweet — a little tired, very lustful, but sweet nonetheless. 

“I love you. You know that, right?”

Three simple words, and still it felt like a large weight fell off your shoulders, allowing you to breathe again. “I know,” you respond with a nod, reaching out to cup his jaw. Your thumb grazes his light stubble, then gently brushes against the hidden scar underneath his chin. 

“I love you,” you say back.

The intimate moment is of short duration. Spencer tilts his head, then raises his hand to signal to the Uber, who just drives into the street. 

You mumble a soft thanks as Spencer holds the door open for you. You crawl into the backseat, and he follows behind you, clicking his seatbelt on and giving the driver the address to your home.

“Driver, roll up the partition, please,” you sing under your breath as the Uber driver does so.

“Beyoncé?”

You gasp, placing a hand on your heart to emphasize your surprise. “Wow, I’ve taught you so much.”

“You teach me lots of things,” he says with a goofy grin. 

And he meant it. You did teach the all-knowing genius quite a lot. Whether you’d consider sharing your excessive pop-culture knowledge as impressive as the facts he rambled about was questionable. But the information was useful, nonetheless. 

His eyes flicker from the driver back to you, saying his next words just loud enough for you to hear. “I don’t think it would be a smart idea if you were to get on your knees, though.”

Your lips curl, taking your bottom lip in between your teeth. His comment is a reference to the song; still you could tell there was a slight invitation behind his words. 

“You don’t think so?” You tease.

He scootches forward in his seat. His eyes roam over your body, halting on your cleavage, then move up to your pouty lips.

“It’s a pretty cramped space,” he settles on saying, his voice hoarse. “Not even mentioning the fact that partitions are made of polycarbonate — which does absorb up to 34 decibels on average, but that’s not enough for you.” 

You raise an eyebrow. “Not enough for me?”

He places a hand on your bare knee, thumbing the skin. “You’re pretty loud,” he recalls, his eyes finding yours. 

You chuckle, your gaze falling down to his hand, which was slowly creeping its way up your thigh. His fingertips were digging into the muscle, massaging it with care. The act is enough to turn you on, though you were already turned on by the kisses that he had left on your neck earlier. The memory is still vivid in your mind. 

“It’s not fair to blame it on me,” you tell Spencer. “You’re the reason for making me scream.”

He breaks eye contact, but not before you could catch the sparkle in his dark irises. He was trying to hold himself together; you could tell. He licks his lips, tucking a loose curl of hair behind his ear, before leaning in. His shoulder brushes against yours, his hot breath leaving goosebumps as his mouth traces the shell of your ear.

“Will you scream again for me tonight?” 

-`♡´-

Spencer’s kisses were all tongue, holding your jaw as he claimed you. There was no fight for dominance — you had surrendered the second he had closed the front door behind you. You had kicked your heels off at the same speed as he had thrown his blazer and tie on the ground. 

Large palms grip your face, connecting his lips back to yours as you blindly stumble through the living room in search of your bedroom. You know you’ve reached your destination as the back of your knees hit the mattress. 

Spencer pulls back. A deep exhale leaves his lips, caressing your cheek with the knuckles of his hand. “So beautiful,” he whispers, taking you in. 

You pull him back in by his collar, kissing him fervently. The lace of your underwear is bundled up between your folds, the material completely soaked. You roll your hips, moaning against Spencer’s mouth because of the slight friction it causes. 

Spencer notices what you’re doing. What you need. He grabs your ass, pulling you flush against him in a swift motion. Another moan escapes your throat as he locks his leg in between yours. Your dress rides up and he sees it as an invitation, rubbing his knee against where you need him most.

You let out a cry, the first one of the night.  

Spencer’s hands make way under the thin straps of your dress, pulling them down your arms, making your skin ignite. He pulls the dress down lower in a slight struggle as he tugs the fabric over your chest. Finally he frees your breasts, still covered with the lacy bra you’re wearing, but visible enough for his mouth to water. 

He pinches your nipples between both of his thumbs and index fingers, making your eyes roll back. “So needy, aren’t you, angel?”

His question isn’t meant to sound condescending — quite the opposite, actually. Still, you feel like he’s enjoying the way you’re all glossy-eyed and fawn-legged, feeling like you can come undone by the slightest of his touches. 

He continues stripping you down, revealing you inch by inch until the dress you had so carefully picked out in the evening is now pooled at your feet. 

Spencer gently presses you on the mattress, pushing your knees open as he takes place on the ground in between your legs. 

He hooks his hands behind your knees, scooting you a bit forward. His hands trail to your inner thighs, making you gasp as his fingertips dance over your skin ever so slowly. 

His touch was a delicious tickle, not one that you wanted to scratch, but one that you wanted to last forever. The heat in your core builds with every swipe of his digits. Your chest is heaving, his fingers so close to your throbbing pussy. 

“These are so damp,” he observes, curving his finger around the string of your underwear. “Think we should take these off, hm?”

A breathy moan leaves your lips. 

Spencer looks up at you, head cocking. He’s waiting for you to answer. You nod your head, hands gripping the bed sheets. “Yes. Want them off.”

He’s satisfied with your response, propping the material to the side to reveal your glistening cunt.

“God, you’re perfect.” He praises in awe. 

Perfect. 

You blink the thought away. There was no room for your anxieties as his tongue made contact with your pussy. You gasp, clenching your stomach and squirming forward, hands immediately finding their way into his hair. 

He uses the flat of his tongue to lick stripes up your folds, then uses the tip of his tongue to add pressure with every swipe against your clit. 

“Tastes so sweet,” he says, letting go of your swollen clit with a pop. 

You’re balancing yourself on the palms of your hands, back arched and head thrown back, giving yourself over to the pleasure. A rough hand gripped your thigh, fingers digging into the flesh. His curls disappear between your legs again. Then that same rough hand… but now around your breast. 

You didn’t notice anything at first — too caught up in the buzz of his hands and mouth on you. That was until he pulled the cup of your bra down, your breast spilling free.

“Spence!” You squeal. 

The sound could pass as a moan to anyone else, but Spencer knows the way you sound. His hands drop from your body, mouth pulling away, leaving you empty but giving you enough time to quickly cover yourself up. His pretty face is etched with confusion. “What is it?” 

“You pulled my bra down.”

“Did I break it?”

You didn’t even think of that. You turn your head to your collarbone, then pull on the strap. “No. It’s fine.”

“Then what’s wrong?” He repeats, golden-speckled eyes blinking up at you. “I told you that I can buy you some new brassières. I don’t mind.”

“It’s not that, Spencer,” you sigh. 

It isn’t fair to get irritated by him. The first step to a good relationship is communication — it’s a sentence you’ve become sick of with the amount of times you hear it, but that doesn’t make it less true.

“Do you…” you’ve now started your sentence. There’s no going back. “You… You like my boobs. Right?”

It’s like watching a mime; the way his eyes widen in surprise, then the wheels in his mind seem to turn, his eyes narrow, and a frown line forms between them. 

“Of course I do,” he says, standing up from his spot in between your legs. 

You’re scared that you’ve ruined it. That the mood is gone now that he’s aware there’s something keeping your mind busy. 

“I thought it was clear how much I like your breasts,” he assures, gently helping you up by your wrists and pulling you into a hug. His arms make you feel more covered, less vulnerable, because he’s still wearing a button-up and pants, while you’re merely clothed in your flimsy lingerie, wetness still coating your inner thighs. 

He presses a kiss to your hair. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like I don’t like them.”

You still need to get used to being in a relationship with someone so emotionally mature. He truly had nothing to apologize for. It’s the voices in your head that tell you that he doesn’t like them. He’s never given you any reason to doubt yourself. 

“You haven’t, Spence. I swear. I’m just-“ you’re glad you’re talking to his chest right now, not having to face him as the next words leave your lips. “I’m scared you won’t like them anymore once you see them… bare. They don’t look the same as when I’m wearing a bra.” 

You can feel his slight chuckle reverberating from his chest. “I don’t look the same without clothes on either.”

Yes, he looks even better. His clothes hide the muscles in his arms, the thickness of his thighs, the soft flesh of his tummy. 

“They just… you know. Sag a bit.” You whisper the last words, feeling like you’ve just admitted to a foul crime. The room stays silent, and his hold on you lessens.

He pulls back enough to see your face, a playful glint still shimmering in his eyes. “I have three PhD's, one of them being in physics, and you don’t think I know how gravity works?”

Well, you weren’t expecting that answer.

“I know it’s natural and all,” you shrug. “They just don’t look like they do in porn. I felt like I needed to warn you.”

He cups your face, making you look at him; a sweet smile lingers on his lips. “If I wanted a pornstar,” the word sounded foreign on his lips, “I wouldn’t be here right now. I want you. All of you.”

You nuzzle your face into the warmth of his palm. Words were just words, but you’d never find out if he meant them if you didn’t give him a chance. You swallow, gathering courage as you take a step back, just enough room for him to fully observe you, his tall figure standing over you. 

Your fingers make their way to your back, trying to ignore their shaking as you reach the clasp of your bra. You maintain eye contact with Spencer, trying to see if he’d change his mind, but so far his hazel eyes are just filled with anticipation and need.

You take in a deep breath, then undo all three clasps at once, ripping the band-aid off. The relief is immediate, certain that there’d be marks on your skin because of the biting underwire. 

Spencer’s jaw slackens. His irises grow with every inch of skin that reveals as you pull the cups down. Then — in a quick move of your hand — you fully remove the bra from your body. 

“Jesus,” Spencer says breathlessly. 

Anxiety flashes through you like a sudden strike of lightning. Your hands reach out to cover yourself up. “I shouldn’t have-“

Warm hands lock around your wrists, gently pulling them away. “I didn’t even imagine you could look this beautiful.” 

His voice was tinged with complete adoration as he took you in. Your mind had to do a double take to signal to you that you’ve heard him properly. Beautiful. 

You play with your hands, squeezing the tips of your fingers to keep yourself from hiding the curves that were on display. “You don’t have to say that.”

He took a step forward, his fingers knitting through yours. “I’m not just saying it,” he guides your intertwined hands to his pants; your breath catches as you notice the outline of his cock bulging through the fabric. He places your hands on his cock, squeezing your fingers around his length. A breathy ah escapes his mouth, his head slightly thrown back as you start moving your hands on your own accord.

“This is all for you. This is what you do to me,” his voice rasps. 

Your thumb moves to his tip, circling the sensitive spot until you see a wet patch forming. Spencer’s hips stutter, bucking into your touch. “Let me prove to you how much I love you. Please, angel.”

His plea was one out of pure desperation. Not only was he dying to touch you, but it had been several hours since he’d first seen you in that dress. Several hours of fighting the urge to bury his cock deep inside of you. 

“I need you so bad, Spence,” you mumble back, nails grazing his clothed cock. 

A loud moan escapes from his throat. He doesn’t waste any time, holding you by your waist and letting the two of you fall onto the bed. You squeal, your tits bouncing from the effort. 

“God, look at you,” he groans, making way in between your legs as you lay down. Your breasts have fallen to the sides of your body, framing you deliciously. Spencer leans in, teasing you as he licks a wet stripe right up your breastbone, curls tickling your pillowy curves, but not yet touching them. 

He swallows your whiny moans by kissing you. His tongue hastily meets yours. He can’t help but grind himself against the softness of your inner thigh, seeking relief as his arousal continues to grow. 

Your mind is spinning. The contrast between his fully clothed body and your naked, vulnerable state is stark. His strong hands grip your delicate face as he kisses you deeper. 

With a catch for breath, Spencer pulls back. His dick twitches as he looks at you — eyes full of desire, pouty swollen lips, hard nipples begging to be touched, and your pussy glistening, ready for him to use. 

“You drive me absolutely crazy, sweetheart.”

You reach out to let your hands roam over his chest, pulling on the collar of his shirt. “Please, take it off.”

He nods, making a quick effort to take his shirt off, throwing it haphazardly to the ground. With slightly shaky legs, he gets to his knees on the bed, hands fumbling with his belt, too busy staring at you.

You can’t escape the moan that leaves your lips as you see the first dusty brown hairs appear on his pubic bone. He pulls his pants down lower, revealing the thick shaft of his throbbing cock. You’re not even aware of your own hand sliding down your body, gasping as your middle finger touches your swollen clit, the feeling electrifying.

“Getting yourself off just by looking at me? I thought that was my job.”

His slacks and boxers fall to his knees, his cock slapping up against his abdomen. You felt almost guilty for teasing him this long — his tip was just as red as his rosy lips, leaking shiny precum. And his cum-filled balls stood strained, like he could bust at any moment. Your middle finger slips into your warm pussy easily, eyes rolling back as you curve your knuckle, hitting that delicious spot hidden inside of you. 

Spencer takes his pants completely off, then grabs your wrist, pulling your finger out swiftly, the motion making a sloppy, wet sound. You whine, bucking your hips up in the air. He moves your hand to his mouth, connecting his lips around your wet finger as he sucks on the digit.

He swirled his tongue, collecting all of your sweet juices and moaning in appreciation. “You can wait a little longer,” he purrs as he pops your finger out of his mouth. 

All you want to do is touch yourself again, especially now that that finger has been in his pretty mouth, but he doesn’t give you the chance as he holds your wrists together, locking them above your head. 

“You can’t show me your beautiful body and then expect me not to worship it,” he softly breathes, leaning in, his lips ghosting your cheek. 

You wiggle in his grasp, making him squeeze his fingers around your wrist. “Be good for me and keep your hands up like this, okay?”

You could say no. Could decline his proposal and have his cock pounding into your aching pussy with just one word. But where would the fun be in that?

“Okay,” you nodded, anticipation bubbling in your core. 

Spencer let go of your hands, and as promised, you intertwined your own fingers, keeping them in place above your head. For a second he just looked at you, taking you in and not knowing where to start. Like a feast that looked delicious from head to toe. But he was the only guest, so he could take his sweet time savoring all of you.

He eventually made his decision. His thumbs and pointer fingers each cupped a breast from the side, then lifted them up so they pressed perfectly against each other.  

A groan left his throat as he bounced them, tongue darting out as he played with your tits in an adorable fascination. “Is this okay?”

You hum, a soft smile lingering on your face. “Yeah, you can be rougher; I won’t break.”

He displayed his fingers over your breasts, experimentally starting to massage the pillowy, plump skin like he’d do with your thighs. Your nipples hardened under his touch, inducing a moan from the both of you. 

His thumbs swiped over your buds synchronously, causing you to whimper. His brows rose lightly, the same look he’d have every time he’d have an epiphany; he then pinched your nipples, slightly turning them as he pulled. Your back arched on the bed, accompanied by a heavenly sounding moan. 

“So sensitive, aren’t you?” He muses. “My poor girl, depraved herself for so long.” 

You could only cry, begging for more. 

“That won’t happen again,” he gently reassures, thumbing your nipples, sending electrifying sparks to your clit. “I’ll make sure to give them all the attention they deserve, hm?”

You hastily nod in agreement, your voice a soft whimper. “Please.”

He leaned down, settling in between your legs, hissing when his cock grazed against your soft inner thigh. 

“Can’t wait to taste you,” he whispered, breath fanning your sensitive skin. He stuck his tongue out, and you couldn’t wait to experience how he’d feel lapping on your tits, if it were to feel just as incredible as having his tongue on your pussy.

Your question was quickly confirmed as he licked a wet stripe over the bud. The cool air that followed formed goosebumps on the skin. He cupped your breast tightly in his hand, leaning in again to repeat the motion, then again, until the bud glimmered under the bedroom light. He squeezed your other tit, making sure to give that one the same amount of attention as he swirled his tongue around the same bud. 

The only sounds that filled the space were your longing moans and the smooching of his kisses. You lay still, hands kept patiently up as you let him use you like a canvas, painting your skin with gentle strokes of his tongue.  

It was after a few more teasing licks that he closed his lips around the bud, cheeks hollowing as he sucked. You gasped, not being able to help yourself as your hands shot to his hair. He didn’t mind though, moaning around you as you tugged on the locks. He let go of your nipple, placing featherlight kisses and sucks on your chest before finding his way to your other breast, connecting his lips to it. The feeling was so dizzying, and you swore that you could come by just a single tap to your clit. 

He opened his eyes to look at you, blown wide pupils locking with yours as he continued to suck. His eyebrows were scrunched as if he was waiting for you to tell him that he was doing a good job, that he was pleasing you. 

“God, you look so beautiful,” you say in a moan. “Make me feel so good.” His eyes twinkled at the compliment, and he grinded his length against your leg as if to say the sentiment was mutual. 

He released your nipple from his mouth, hoisting himself up to press a kiss to your lips. His tongue moved around yours in the same way as it had done to your body just a moment ago. 

“Thank you for trusting me,” kiss, “can’t get enough of you,” another kiss, “need more.” 

An idea sparked in the back of your mind. It was something you’d never tried before, not with anyone, but you could imagine it feeling good. He has fucked your thighs before. Your mouth. Your pussy. The only thing that was missing was—

“Do you want to fuck my tits?”

“Oh God, yes,” Spencer instantly groaned in response. You giggled as he made quick work of moving up the bed, placing a knee on either side of your upper body. His hard cock was just inches away from you; a string of precum coated his tip, dripping onto you. You reached out, finger gathering the sticky essence before suckling on the digit.

Spencer’s hips twitched, releasing another thick drop of precum. “You have to stop doing that.”

“Why?” You teased, proudly showing your clean finger. 

He groaned, both in frustration and longing. “Because I will come all over you before I’ve even fucked you.”

You laugh, turning him on even more without it being on purpose. You placed your hands flat against your tits, squeezing them together invitingly. “Come on, then.”

Spencer grips himself by the base, tapping his tip against your soft cleavage before sliding himself in between your breasts. 

“Jesus, fuck,” he moans, throwing his head back. He’s too aroused to start out slow, instantly slamming his hips up in a steady rhythm. His upper thighs slap against your breasts, recreating the dirty sounds he'd make if he were actually fucking you.

“You feel so good like this,” he whimpers. “Always so good to me, angel.” 

He reaches out to pinch your nipples, making sure to bring you pleasure as well. Not like you weren’t enjoying this — Spencer was so, so pretty; you could stare at him for hours: his jaw slack, moans and groans spilling from his swollen lips like a song sung just for you, his chest and neck covered in red splotches from the heat of your bodies, his slick, pink tip rubbing against your chest, his veiny hands playing with your tits as he kept looking at you, his eyes filled with love and adoration… You couldn’t get enough. 

“I’m so close, baby,” he pants, his cock twitching, using the wetness that had gathered between your breasts as lube to move his hips faster against you. 

“That’s okay,” you encourage breathlessly, pressing your tits closer together, creating more friction for him. “Let go for me, Spence.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice. One of his hands clasps around your shoulder, the other kneading the soft flesh of your breast as he thrusts his hips forward once more. His muscles tense, and you catch that look on his face — the look that tells you he’s right on the edge. Your prediction gets confirmed as a throaty whine escapes his throat, followed by warm spurts of white shooting onto your neck and chest. You’re able to catch a few drops by sticking out your tongue, swallowing, and sticking it out again to show him the proof.

“You drive me absolutely crazy, angel,” he says awestruck, climbing off of your body and staying seated beside you. 

You hum as you take in the way he has painted your chest, tracing your skin with your index finger, creating small drawings. He looks at you mesmerized, then blinks. “We should clean you up.”

“I got it,” you announce, cupping your breast up to your face and licking a firm stripe across the skin. 

A gasp sounded beside you, and you couldn’t help the sly grin that formed on your face as Spencer looked at you in pure surprise.

“I didn’t know you could do that.”

You giggled, placing your lips around your nipple as you gave a gentle suck while focusing on your boyfriend, whose cock was hardening again. 

“Acting so needy when you’ve been pleasing yourself all this time,” he tsked. “Such a dirty girl.” 

He matched your smile, cupping your face and bending over to lightly caress your lips with his once again. You moan in satisfaction, licking his bottom lip to be invited in. Your lips acted in a familiar play, experimentally moving around each other until you figured out each other’s moves, able to feel the urgent need in the way his tongue stroked yours, signaling back to him that you’re feeling the same by biting down on his bottom lip.

He groaned in response, his hands sneaking around your waist to hoist you up. “You’ve done enough hard work; you deserve to lie down now,” you joke as he gently makes way onto the soft bed sheets, holding onto your even softer thighs as you straddle him. 

His cock feels heavy in your hands as you position it underneath your throbbing pussy, shuddering as you tease your walls with the slick head. 

“You look so beautiful,” he praises, moving his warm hands up and down your hips, easing the strain you feel when you slowly sink down onto his length. You gasp when his thick tip disappears between your folds, but his sweet moans calm you down. Oh, you’re so tight. Just a little more, just like that. You’re doing so good for me, angel. 

“Oh my God, Spence,” you moan as your hips make contact with his. The stinging has eased into a delicious sense of being full, placing your hands on top of his tummy to keep yourself steady as you start rocking your hips. Spencer gives a firm squeeze, fingertips digging into the curve of your ass, sure it’s going to leave marks. 

You move your body up and down, breasts swaying with every one of your movements, the act completely hypnotizing Spencer. His head feels fuzzy and his throat dry as he watches you, not being able to believe how lucky he got. 

You up your speed, moaning and whimpering as you use his cock as your personal toy, his voice and face working as porn as he shudders in pure bliss underneath you. 

“Taking me— fuck — so well, baby,” he whines. Spencer places the soles of his feet flat on the bed, holding you tightly by your waist as he lifts his body up.

“Spencer!” you cry as his cock drives deeper into you. 

“Hm, I’m sorry, baby,” he murmurs in apology. “Just want to help you out.”

You nod — because even though you’re very much enjoying taking the lead, you know how good it feels when Spencer helps you out by pounding into you. So that’s what you do: sinking down onto him, meeting each of his thrusts as he bucks his hips up.

“Is it painful?” he asks considerately, nodding toward the way your heavy breasts bounce with each push of his hips.

You shrug, “Just a bit.” To be fair, you’re way too focused on the way your core tightens every time he buries his cock in your pussy, hitting that sweet spot inside of you as the veins decorated around his shaft tease your inner walls — to even care.

His large hands find their place on your breasts, squeezing them once, then twice, then looking back in your eyes. “I can work as your personal brassière.”

You chuckle, rolling your eyes. “Ah, how civil.”

“Did you know brassières were only invented in 1893? It’s fascinating because technically the first brassières dated back to ancient Greece. Actually, in Book 14 of Homer’s Iliad, there’s a reference to Aphrodite’s embroidered girdle.”

You hum, leaning forward to catch his lips. “And did you know that you talk too much?” You tease as you press another kiss to his mouth. “And did you know that no one uses the word brassières anymore?”

“But it’s the correct term!”

There’s only one other way to shut him up. You cradle your hands underneath his head, bending while tilting his head up to press his face against your tits. 

“Hmpf,” he mouths against your breasts, before easily finding your nipple to latch on. 

You hold onto the headboard, relishing in his touch as you pick up your rhythm again. His cock hits even deeper inside of you in this position. There’s something so electrifying about the stimulation of your breasts in combination with the pleasure against your G-spot. A feeling so electrifying you doubt you can hold on much longer. 

“Getting close, Spence,” you cry as his hands cradle your ass, holding the cheeks open as he pumps his length in and out of you.

“Not yet, sweetheart. Wait on me.”

His hot breath fans against your wet nipples, and you cry loudly, gripping the headboard until your knuckles turn white.

“I can’t, Spence. I can’t — feels so fucking good.”

“Yes, you can. Just a little longer. Make me proud, angel; I know you can.”

You tighten your walls around him — maybe it can be considered as cheating — but it works. Spencer groans as he bites down on your breast, not enough to hurt, but enough to make you squeal.

Spencer holds you tight against him, chests pressing together as he moves his hips with force. “That’s it — Oh, I’m close. Let go for me.” 

With one more jolt of his hips, you come undone. You cry incoherent words in the crook of his shoulder. Your legs are shaking from the strain of holding them open for so long. Your pussy flutters around him repeatedly until Spencer’s legs quiver in the same way as yours, filling you up with his warmth.

He groans in satisfaction, pushing his hips up a few more times to make sure his release is buried deep inside of you. The round head of his cock slips out of your folds. You let out a sharp gasp, still feeling the print he had left inside of you. You can feel the way your pussy twitches as his cum drips out of you and dribbles onto his thighs.

Spencer pulls some hairs out of your face, pressing a sweet kiss to your temple as you settle your head down on his sweaty chest.

“It's okay,” he soothes you. “You did so good.”

You smile sheepishly, drawing figures on his chest. “Yeah?”

He mirrors your smile. “Yeah. You did perfectly.” Another kiss to your face. “My beautiful, brilliant girl.”

Your heart does a leap out of joy. It’s easy to say afterward, but you can’t believe how you were ever scared to show yourself to him. Now only regretting not having done it sooner as you see the physical proof of how enamored he is with you. Maybe you didn’t fit the ideal you’d been forced to fit in all of your life, but if anything, there’s only more to love.

[loviatarsluv]

APHRODISIAC

— ‎ ꜝ synopsis: it should’ve been just like any other auction you’d attended with sylus - get in, gather information, and get out - but an unfortunate run-in with another organization’s leader leads to a very… sticky situation.

— ꜝ pairing: sylus x reader (reader is technically MC, so they are described femininely and use feminine pronouns)

—ꜝ genre: smut (18+ reader discretion advised!)

— ꜝ word count: 5.6k

— ꜝ tags/warnings: strong language, dr*gging, aphrodisiacs, (f)masturbation, fingering, oral (f receiving), sylus being a consent king (⁎˃ᆺ˂)

—ꜝ author's note: another lads fic I’ve been sitting on for months bc I wasn’t sure if it was good enough to post but when I tell u the urge to write sylus smut is so strong at all times, esp to push the munch!sylus agenda … so I went ahead and finished this one and left it on a lil bit of a cliffhanger for shits and gigs (❛ε❛“) just know sylus had her up until DAWN, bro is trying to give himself lockjaw I swear

18+ ONLY under the cut!! I mean it!!

You tug at the tight crimson silk bound around your midsection, adjusting the almost too low neckline and the high slit that stopped just at the top of your thigh every few minutes to avoid a malfunction.

You recall Sylus’ words from months prior when you attended that first auction with him.

No one can stay wary when there’s a beauty walking around.

His flattery almost always held motive behind it— his intentions were clear with his choice of dress to adorn you in, and all you could do was grin and bear it as dozens of the N109 Zone’s most affluent gawked at you as you meandered around the lavish ballroom while Sylus was off doing god knows what.

“Miss, would you care for a glass of wine?” A waiter with a bright smile appears seemingly out of nowhere, a golden tray held before him with one single wine glass in the center.

You eyeball the glass for a moment, your better judgment scolding you for considering it, before shaking your head.

“No, thank you.” You smile politely, turning to walk away before the waiter clears his throat.

“Are you sure? It’s compliments of that gentleman over there,” he points toward a tall man looming in the corner, indolently leant against the wall and watching with a sly smirk on his face.

You squint at him, mentally searching your mind for any trace of him only to come up blank. Your eyes darted between the glass and the man, something telling you it would be wise to accept the drink in case it could start a conversation with a potential person of interest.

You feign a thankful smile, grabbing the glass by its delicate stem and swirling it slightly to subtly check for any tampering.

“Thank you.” You coo to the waiter as he dashes off, bringing the edge of the glass up to your nose to sniff it.

Unable to detect any smell or visible alterations to the dark red liquid, you sample a tiny sip, glancing at the man out of the corner of your eye as you do.

A deep and husky voice chimes through the earpiece Sylus had given you earlier, instructing you to keep it on at all times. So he can eavesdrop on me, you think to yourself.

“Miss Hunter drinking on the job? What a little rebel.”

You roll your eyes, now certain that Sylus was watching you somehow. Your eyes scan the higher parts of the room for Mephisto, but find no sign of the mechanical crow or the pompous man he answered to.

“Wasn’t this part of your plan? I stay down here and dangle myself like a piece of meat over a lion enclosure and hope someone bites while you get to do all the actual work? Well, someone has finally bitten. You should be thrilled.”

He chuckles lowly, and you tune your ears to try to listen for him somewhere in the room, but his voice remains secluded only to your left ear.

“Are you not having fun playing pretend?” Underneath the slight amusement, there’s a hint of genuine concern in his voice that catches you off guard.

A loud scoff tumbles from your lips, forgetting yourself for a moment before quickly covering it with a cough. “Are you actually making any progress, or are you too busy watching me? Is your faith in me so little?” You huff in retort, annoyance clear in your voice despite the deceiving little smile that remained on your face.

“Hard not to look at you right now, kitten. Red is your color.”

Heat rises to your cheeks, reminding you that you really were little more than a lamb primed for slaughter standing in a room full of hungry wolves— one of them being your escort.

A gruff sigh reaches your ears, his voice almost sympathetic as he speaks again before the line cuts off.

“I’ll be done soon. Hold tight.”

Before you can even attempt to reach out to him again, you notice a dark figure approaching out of the corner of your eye. You silently curse to yourself.

Sylus, you better hurry the fuck up.

“Red is your color, angel.” The man who’d sent the wine coos, peering at you from behind a pair of dark sunglasses that seemed out of place in the dim lighting of the room.

Somehow, you manage not to audibly scoff once again, biting down on your tongue as you offer him a sanguine simper from behind the glass as it perches on your lower lip.

“So I’ve been told. Thank you,” you deadpan, raising the glass to him, your dark burgundy nails tinking against the side, perfectly matching the color of the liquid inside.

He smirks, a mouth full of impossibly perfect pearly white teeth on display, his sharp canines peeking over his lip. “Don’t mention it, doll. Strange to see a pretty thing like you standing alone. Did you lose your escort?”

Misogynistic prick.

“I escorted myself.” You lie, your tone harsh as you respond sharply, unable to contain the bite in it at his presumptiveness.

“Forgetting about me already, sweetie?” Sylus’ voice is in your ear again, and it takes everything in you to fight the urge to rip the device out of your ear and stomp on it.

How you manage to be surrounded by the most insufferable men constantly is truly astounding.

“Well, it must be my lucky day then. How about a dance then, Miss…?” The man purrs, holding his hand out in offering.

Your eyes scan him once again, trying your hardest to search your memory for anything of note that could help identify him.

He was handsome— he looked like he had been torn straight out of an issue of a fashion magazine in his perfectly tailored gray suit and his lean physique. He was tall, but still not quite as towering as Sylus. He could almost appear as Sylus’ perfect negative, draped in lighter tones contrasted by his immaculately styled raven hair. He certainly had the ego to rival that of the leader of the fearsome Onychinus, but likely lacked the merit for it.

“Don’t waste your time. I’m wrapping up now.” Sylus rasps in your ear, an uncharacteristic tone of urgency in his voice as the words fly out of his mouth in rapid succession.

A devilish smirk tugs at the corners of your painted lips, deciding to give him a bit of hell as payback for leaving you out here like chum in shark infested waters.

“Vale,” you grinned coyly as you offered the fake name, knowing better than to give your real identity away, placing your hand delicately in his outstretched one. “And you are…?”

He offers yet another captivating smile before bringing the back of your gloved hand up to his lips. “Fawkes. Pleasure to meet you, Miss Vale.”

Fawkes. Where have you heard that name before?

“Shit. You didn’t drink any more of the wine, did you?” Sylus asks, his prior tone of urgency now topped with noticeable concern. “I’ll be there soon. Hold on, kitten.”

Your brows furrow, a pit forming in your stomach as the pieces fall into place and you suddenly understand the situation you’d gotten yourself into.

You’d only taken a sip, so the haze was manageable as it came on, but still enough to cause your eyelids to feel heavier than they should. You manage to maintain your composure as he leads you around the room, one cold hand wrapped around your waist, his fingertips digging into the bare skin of your exposed back, nails slightly digging into the flesh as if they were clawed talons perched atop a piece of carrion.

He watches you expectantly— you could feel his eyes on you even behind his dark glasses.

“Feeling alright, Miss Vale?” He dips his head low enough to bring his mouth close to your ear, his voice sending an unpleasant chill down your spine.

You feign a smile, coyly placing a hand against his lapel.

“Peachy keen. Thank you for asking,” you reply simply, attempting to subtly scan the room for any sign of Sylus.

The smirk on the towering man’s face sent a wave of nausea through you as the possibilities of his intentions with drugging the drink swirled in your mind— had he seen you enter with Sylus? Or worse… Did he know who you were, and did he know about the Aether Core?

Dreary eyes sweep the dance floor once more as he guides you into a graceful turn, your dress swishing across the marble tiles. No sign of Sylus still, and the pounding in your skull was only getting worse…

Not to mention, the… other effects that had started to set in, that you were trying with all of your might to ignore.

“Are you sure you’re well, doll? You’re looking a little… feverish. Perhaps you should lie down for a bit,” he offers coolly, as if he were an actor performing his lines for the millionth time. Your blood boils at the thought.

You shake your head, keeping an iron grip on your composure.

Any second now, Sylus will swoop in. He always does. He’s so handsome, and strong, and big… I wonder if—

Oh god, snap out of it!

“I’m fine. It’s just been a long day, s’all,” you slightly slur, mentally cursing yourself for losing control of your words while still trying to reign in your bodily functions and your mind that you were rapidly losing control of. Your eyes sweep the room once again, the room beginning to feel as though it were in rotation before landing on the area where you knew the ladies’ room to be. “I think I need to use the restroom.”

Just as you begin to pull away from his grasp, he reaches out once again, roughly yanking your body back against his and bringing his sinister grin close to your ear, his hot breath sending a shiver up your spine.

“But we haven’t finished our dance yet, doll,” His sickly sweet tone makes your skin crawl as his hands grip at your waist.

Just as you begin to worry that your fate has been sealed, you feel another much larger set of hands grabbing you by the waist and hauling you away. Sylus’ voice is low and gruff against your ear as he leans down to whisper to you. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

The low timbre of his voice sends a wave of heat through you, pooling low as a bright flush washes across your face tinting it a rosy hue. You try not to look him in the eyes for fear that you may lose the last remains of control you cling to.

Before you can even attempt an answer, Sylus pushes you behind him, his large and looming body shielding you as you cling to his back, pressing against the warm fabric of his suit jacket as it drapes over his broad shoulders.

He always smells so good…

“Ah, Mr. Sylus. Didn’t anyone teach you it’s rude to steal another man’s dance partner without asking first?” You hear the man’s voice distantly as you feel Sylus tense against you.

“Not nearly as rude as drugging another man’s date, is it not?” He hisses, his tone sharp and full of venom as his hand reaches behind his back to grip your arm protectively.

You recall earlier how you’d planned to make Sylus jealous out of spite, and the perverse part of your brain that had been wrenched out of hiding silently thank past-you for concocting such a brilliant plan— he is so hot when he’s like this.

Wait, what? Ugh, what did that asshole put in your drink?!

“Quite a big accusation to throw at a man with no actionable proof,” the man sounds amused, as if he were simply toying with his food. “Whether I’ve done such a thing or not, it would probably be wise to escort this lovely lady home. I’ll get to the bottom of this, don’t you worry.”

Sylus’ jaw sets, his knuckles turning white at his side as he resists the burning sensation of his evol accumulating in his palm, the urge to send an angry mist of black and blood red to snap the man’s neck growing stronger with each passing second. He refrains, his demeanor calm and collected as he begins to lead you out of the ballroom.

As the two of you begin to pass the slightly shorter man, a hand reaches out to grip Sylus’ arm, halting him in his tracks.

What is said, you barely make out, every sound blurring together as the foggy haze makes itself at home in your unsober mind, but you could piece things together to discern what you thought was said.

“You have a long night ahead of you, my friend.”

Huh. Strange.

⁺⊹♡◦₊⋄

The silence in the car was deafening— or was it the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears? You couldn’t tell anymore, the world was all a hazy blur of sounds and lights and spicy cinnamon cologne that seemed so much stronger when contained and concentrated within the stark leathery confines of this small space.

You sneak glances at Sylus, your legs instinctively clenching together as you notice the iron grip his large hands held on the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white with the force of his menacing grip strength. You worried he might break the wheel entirely.

God, you’re going mad.

Especially when he looked like that— the way his muscles tensed and remained taut, his entire presence buzzing with an energy you’d only noticed when he would come to your rescue; a sort of protective, almost possessive aura that always made your heart skip a beat, but now it had your heart doing a full on marathon in your chest.

Typically, him speeding with you in the car might bother you, but you were too gone to care anymore. Your mind could not focus on anything but that stupid. Fucking. Cologne.

Was it the cologne, or was it just him?

“I have half a mind to go back and snap that man’s neck,” he breaks the silence, casually throwing the sentence out as if he were simply commenting on the weather. You knew he meant it, too. You swallow thickly.

It’s just him. Good lord… you’re in trouble.

You remain silent, for fear that whatever comes out of your mouth might seal your own death sentence. Death by mortification.

Sylus’ head turns slightly to peek at you, his brows furrowed. “Are you alright?”

No. Nope. Not good.

“Y-Yeah. All good.” You muster, the tremor in your voice evident and undeniable. You pinch your eyes shut, hoping he won’t press you any further.

“Tch. You’re a bad liar, even with drugs swimming through your system.” He chastises.

Before you can attempt a defensive retort, the car lurches to a sudden stop, and you realize you were already outside of his base.

“We’re here.”

Just as your hands move to unbuckle your seatbelt, Sylus is already on the passenger side of the car, large hands making quick work of what your shaky, clammy ones likely would’ve struggled with. Heat radiates off of him as he leans over you for that brief moment and you feel your body instinctively lean into him, leaning your head against his shoulder.

He freezes, a soft chuckle leaving his lips. “Let’s get you inside.”

You nod, your slightly damp forehead rubbing against the fabric of his shirt as you do. He pulls back, carmine irises scanning your face with a softer look than you’d ever seen him adorn.

His arm wraps around your back, the smooth, warm flesh of his forearm brushing against the exposed skin on your spine causing goosebumps to raise across your arms and your hair to stand on end. The smallest amount of skin-to-skin contact was already almost too much for you, and you jolted away from his touch.

Confused, he looks you over, thinking maybe he’d hurt you somehow. “Did I hurt you? What’s wrong?”

You stare back up at him, chest heaving as if you’d ran here yourself, cheeks glowing and a sheen of sweat glistening all over your body despite the bitter chill of the winter air.

This is insane, it’s like I’m in heat! I have to get away from him before I do something stupid…

Without another word, you muster up enough strength to push yourself out of the car and dash through the front door, beelining it to the room Sylus had set up for you when you ended up staying the night in the N109 Zone.

You breeze past Luke and Kieran, who both offer some sort of silly greeting that you couldn’t be bothered to attempt to listen to this time, knowing you couldn’t look anyone in the eye right now knowing that your body was like a loose cannon.

It should be over in a few hours, right?

⁺⊹♡◦₊⋄

It had been much longer than a few hours.

At least it felt that way, for Sylus.

Sylus waited a bit before attempting to check on you, the familiar tug of worry in his chest that he only felt when you were hurt or in trouble persisting and making it hard not to fuss over you and make sure you were okay.

Not to mention, the last thing that wretched man said to him as he dragged you out of the venue echoed in his ears like a church bell— You have a long night ahead of you, my friend.

Whatever that meant.

“Boss, we can go check on her if you want!” Luke offers, breaking Sylus out of his swirling thoughts.

“Yeah! Don’t even worry about it, we’ll take care of her!” Kieran chimes in, stepping up behind Luke and peering at Sylus over his brother’s shoulder.

A heavy sigh escapes Sylus’ chest, his thumb and index finger pinching the bridge of his nose.

“That will not be necessary.” Is all he says before turning and disappearing down the hallway toward your room, restraining himself from telling the two of them off for even offering. The thought of anyone coming near you that wasn’t him right now was making his skin crawl.

He tried not to rush through the extensive maze that was his main base to get to you, but he couldn’t help but move swiftly knowing that you were unwell, much less that you were unwell due to his own negligence.

As he approached your bedroom door, he could very faintly hear a low string of odd noises on the other side— were you crying?

Worried, he pushes the door open slowly, and the scene he finds is not at all what he’d expected.

Silver moonlight pours in through the parted curtains near your bed, bathing your blushed and panting figure in a starry glow as your skin glistens, your legs parted with your hand buried between them, your forearm draped over your eyes as you bite down on the sheets in a feeble attempt to conceal the moans and whimpers escaping your throat.

Sylus’ throat goes dry, unsure whether he should leave or announce his presence, unable to tear his eyes away from your body writhing in the stark black silk sheets, a million and one terribly profane thoughts flooding his mind at the sight.

“S-Sy— ah!” You whine, muffled by the silk on your tongue, but audible just enough for him to hear, and just enough to snap the last few strands of restraint he’d been holding on to.

He crosses the room in two or three quick steps until he reaches the side of the bed, clearing his throat loudly to announce his presence.

You gasp, your eyes snapping open, scrambling to readjust your dress to cover yourself. “Sylus! H-How long have you been s-standing there?!”

His ruby irises seemed so much darker as he looked you over, a low hum resounding in his chest. “Long enough.”

Your jaw goes slack, unsure what all he saw, or much worse, what he’d heard.

“I was just— it’s because of the— I wasn’t—” You clamor over yourself attempting to explain, your entire being feeling like you might fall apart at the seams due to both embarrassment, and the fact that you’d been seconds away from orgasm before the subject of your depraved fantasies so rudely and abruptly interrupted.

“I know, kitten. And if you had simply said something earlier, I could’ve helped you.”

Unsure if you’d heard him right, you look up at him, confused. “W-What?”

He chuckles lowly, his body lowering down to sit beside you on the bed, the mattress dipping below his weight as he scoots toward you.

“The drug— he gave you an aphrodisiac of some sort.” He explains, yet still expertly dodges your question.

“No shit, Sylus!” You yell, exasperated, still on edge and aching from the current lack of stimulation. You squeeze your legs together to quell the throbbing between them, a whimper dropping from your lips as you do. You grab one of the pillows and shove your face into it, wishing this hellish ordeal would end.

Sylus grabs the pillow and pulls it back down to look you in the eyes once again, a glint of both mischief and lust in his eyes. “Don’t hide from me, sweetie.”

“This is a nightmare.” You groan, your eyes moving to focus on the ceiling and avoid his knowing gaze.

A hand comes up to push a few sweat slicked strands of hair off of your face, then a thumb presses your jaw back down, holding it tightly as he inches closer, his face only a few measly inches away from yours.

“My offer to help still stands. If you want it, that is. But you have to give me a clear yes or no.”

Yes! Yes, please!

If you were hot before, you must be on fire now, your entire body feeling as if your blood had been replaced with magma. It took all of your strength to keep yourself from pouncing on him then and there, all rational and logical thought having left you the moment you’d entered this room.

“I need an answer, kitten.” He repeats, his hand sliding across the sheets, inching closer and closer to your thigh. You were practically trembling with need, each one of your muscles taut like a bowstring ready to send you whizzing through the air into his capable arms.

“Fuck it.” You practically moan, launching yourself forward and colliding your lips with his in a heated, breathy, sloppy kiss that was all tongue and teeth and pure greed. Not only on your part, but on his as well.

He molds you to him instantly, strong arms wrapping around you and pulling you into his lap, one hand moving to grip the back of your thigh before travelling underneath your dress to get a handful of the plush flesh of your ass. You break away from the kiss, dazed and gasping for air, a string of saliva still connecting his mouth to yours.

“Was that a clear enough answer for you?” You breathe, your voice huskier than you’d ever known was possible for yourself.

“I’ll let it slide this time,” he whispers against your lips as you reconnect them, taking the lead by pushing him backward so that he was laying and you hovered above him. You could feel your slick dripping down your thigh, the cool air hitting it and sending a chill through you. You’d have likely been embarrassed in any other situation, but you had much more pressing matters in your mind— such as Sylus’ clothed cock pressing against you as it strains against his too-tight slacks.

You sit back, unsteady hands trying desperately to release it from its confines, but a large hand captures yours and brings it up to press a kiss to the inside of your wrist.

“What an eager little kitten, I’ve got,” he purrs. “As much as I’d die to sink into you and never let you go— I think now maybe isn’t the best time.”

Ouch.

You weren’t sure if it was the effects of the drugs still swimming in your system that made his rejection feel like a knife through your chest, or if it was something else, but that’s exactly how it felt— as if he’d grabbed your heart and stabbed it like it were a butchered piece of meat.

His eyes soften as he notices the look on your face, a hand moving to cup your cheek, thumb rubbing soothing circles under your eye. “Trust me, sweetie. I want to. More than anything, truly... But I want to do this when you want it for real, not because some deviant slipped a roofie in your drink.”

You remain silent, understanding his reasoning but wishing so badly you had a valid counterargument to against it, to beg and plead with him to just ravage you and not think twice about it— but damn this man for being so… thoughtful. You couldn’t possibly protest, even in your most addled state.

Taking note of your silence, he leans forward once again, pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose.

“Besides, I want it to be special. I want to take my time with you,” His voice is low as he speaks, dripping with the promise of passion that only furthered your current dilemma. His eyes flick down to the spot beneath you on his pants where a dark, wet stain pooled, and he almost looks pained. “Let’s just get you through tonight first, hm?”

You sigh, beginning to climb off of him before he grips your hips, holding you in place. You raise a brow in confusion, only to be met with a lustful smirk. “I thought you said—”

“I said no to sex, not no to everything,” He explains matter-of-factly.

In a swift movement, he flips the two of you over, softly tossing your back against the mattress, your hair splaying out around your head like a halo. Large hands move to grip the plush meat of your thighs, gently spreading your legs and pulling your skirt up to expose the mess you’d already made of yourself, your panties soaked and the insides of your thighs drenched in your slick.

He sucks in a sharp breath at the sight, a dangerous flicker of hunger flashing across his blood red eyes.

“Poor thing,” he tuts, his words like honey dripping from his tongue. “Already so soaked…” he grumbles more to himself as lays on his stomach, his face merely inches from your wet and waiting heat.

You can’t help but already moan in anticipation, your body aching with the fiercest need you’d ever experienced, that ache only intensifying the more he teased you. “S-Sylus, please…”

He ignores you, his eyes locked on your panties that were now essentially see through, examining your body as if he was trying to memorize it and save it for later.

He hesitates for a moment before leaning forward, his hot breath ghosting over you, eyes heavily lidded and full of pure desire as he peers up at you. Just as you open your mouth to plead with him, a long digit swipes up the center of your folds, lightly flicking your clit and making you jolt, wrenching a surprised yelp out of you.

“Are you sure you want this? I can try to figure out something else to ease your symptoms if—”

“Sylus!” You basically yell over him, leaning up and placing your hands on his shoulders, gripping at them as if your life depended on it. It sure felt like it did at this point.

“I have fantasized about this long before tonight, so I swear to all that is holy if you do not eat me out right now, I might actually keel over and die,” you ramble quickly, the words tumbling out as if a dam had burst in your brain and now the things that you barely even admit to yourself were spilling out freely. But you couldn’t care less at this point, you’d lost the ability to hours ago.

The words that leave your lips seem to shock both of you, an unreadable expression passing across his face before settling on something you could only describe with one word: primal.

He practically growls as he dives in, lapping hungrily at your still clothed cunt like a man starved. His voice vibrates against you, only furthering the sensation and nearly already overstimulating you. His arms wrap around your thighs, pulling you closer to him and fingers digging in and gripping them tight to prevent you from pulling away— not that you’d planned on it, anyways.

Your hand flies to his head, your fingers threading through his silver locks the way you’d wished you could dozens of times over. When your fingers find purchase, your nails scraping gently across his scalp, he groans loudly against your pussy— and god, you may not last much longer if he keeps this up.

“You are so,” he mutters into you, pausing to lick one long stripe from your entrance to your clit. “Fucking divine.” He finishes, one arm releasing your thigh so he could hook a finger beneath the soiled cloth and slide it to the side, the cool air biting at your drenched cunt as he exposes it.

“Fucking hell,” he murmurs to himself before diving in again, his tongue immediately finding your waiting hole, clenching and throbbing desperately around nothing.

Your back instantly arches off of the bed, a string of whiny, needy whimpers and curses filling the room amidst the profane squelching noises as he drinks you in as if you were the last drop of water in a burning hot desert.

He pistons his tongue in and out of you, using his still free hand to swipe against your neglected bud, shockwaves of pleasure wreaking havoc on your body and soul. You were already so close.

“S-Sylusss…” You mewl, bringing your hand up to bite down on your fist to muffle yourself. Sylus notices and quickly grips your wrist, yanking it away from your mouth.

“No, no, kitten. I need to hear you. Don’t hide from me,” he instructs, his voice a deep rumble akin to a purr against you. You lean up and nod at him with wide, teary eyes glazed over with pleasure. “Be good for me, won’t you?”

Good grief.

“Say it,” his voice is darker, more commanding. Your walls clamp down on the infuriating nothingness.

“I’ll be good, Sylus, p-please, pleasepleaseplease,” you plead, your voice more wanton and needy than you’d ever heard it before. It almost didn’t sound like you, if you hadn’t felt it drip off of your own tongue.

He hums in approval, bringing a finger up to tease at your folds, gently massaging and gathering up your slick on the pad of it before prodding at your entrance.

“I know, kitten. I’ve got you.” He purls as one finger slowly inches in, and a feeling somewhere between relief and desperation floods your body. It wasn’t enough, you needed more.

“More, please, please, I need—” You were practically sobbing, and he hadn’t even moved his hand yet.

“Hmm… so greedy,” without warning, he curls his finger, prodding perfectly at that spongy spot that made your vision go white and lit your body on fire, while his thumb starts to rub slow teasing circles around your neglected clit. “Is that better?”

“Yes! Just like that— I’m gonna come, just like that!” You scream, your hand instinctively pushing against his head to pull him closer.

He chuckles, complying with your nonverbal queue and replacing his thumb with his mouth, sucking down harshly onto your throbbing clit, sending you careening into the hardest orgasm you’d ever felt in your life.

Wave after wave of pleasure wrecks your body, slamming into you for what felt like forever while Sylus continued to work you through it all, one hand moving to lace his fingers between yours to help ground you while the other slowly moved within your pulsing walls as you came down.

Your body slumps, your chest heaving and your mind reeling. You’re still trapped in the haze of pleasure as Sylus pulls his finger out, placing one last lingering kiss to your over sensitive pussy before pulling away all together. You keen at the loss of his touch, already wanting more as he gazes up at you, chin glistening with the most pussy-drunk expression written across his features.

“Feel better?” He asks smugly, wiping his chin with the back of his hand and licking his lips, the burning embers of lust still flickering in his fiery eyes.

You want to say yes, but you know all too well that you could easily go for several more rounds and then some. You weren’t sure if you were even still under the effects of the aphrodisiac drug anymore, or if you were just finally admitting to yourself what you’ve known you wanted all along. This forbidden attraction to Sylus that had only grown the longer you’d spent time around him, the ache you felt to be closer to him anytime you went away or vice versa— you couldn’t deny it anymore, and that frightened you.

Sylus notes your silence, and chuckles, crawling over you until his hands are on either side of your head, his face hovering over yours. His breath smells strongly of you, and the thought makes your quivering legs clamp closed once again.

“Was that okay?” He asks, his eyes and voice softer than you think you’d ever heard from him, seeking reassurance.

Was that okay? You mock him in your head, your eyes flitting down to look at your disheveled dress, the sheen of sweat coating your skin, your heaving chest and not to mention the absolute disaster that was your lower half. Your eyes flit back to his, a wry smirk on your lips.

“If I say no, will you try again?” You ask earnestly, despite it sounding like a joke.

Sylus chuckles, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Only if you ask nicely.”

⁺⊹♡◦₊⋄

other l&ds works ➛ bloop

[distantdarlings]

OUT OF IT // t. nott

RATING: R / 4.4K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Fem Reader Insert

+ SUMMARY - *Requested - based on this* Theodore Nott has been your best friend for years, but the closeness that you’ve gained throughout your friendship proves to be a little too intimate for the two of you to handle.

+ WARNINGS - SMUT! PIV - no protection, fingering, light nipple play (f!receiving), dirty talk, tension, top!Theo, bottom!Reader, fem reader, language, super NOT proofread (lmk if I missed anything!)

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Again (Sped Up) - Noah Cyrus

(Okay! So prep for this was super rushed bc I am about to go on vacation and just got done with a ton of work. I’m very sorry this is so quick and frazzled—hopefully you all can look past it. Thanks for your patience.)

- - -

The dimly-lit corridors always felt so cozy around this time of the evening. The skies outside were pitch black and the only form of light was the flickering, honeyed candles mounted to the stone walls every few paces or so. A rather clever spell had been cast on them to keep them from dripping wax all over the floors.

You combed your fingers through your hair, letting the strands slide across your skin. Keeping your hair pinned up always gave you just a bit of a headache, but being able to take it down after classes was a relief like no other. Your fingernails scratched lightly over your scalp in an attempt to reestablish some blood flow throughout.

After a particularly difficult day, you wanted nothing more than to eat a quick dinner and then crash into your bed. You felt as if you’d been going non-stop since waking up this morning with nothing but a bagel and some tea in your stomach for the whole day. You were sure if you spoke to a muggle physician, they’d have some choice words for you. You could practically feel the dark circle sprouting beneath your eyes.

You turned one final candle-adorned hallway before arriving in front of the Great Hall. You arrived on the later side of the allotted dinner times, but you knew the food would stay on the table until the last student who intended to eat arrived. That was part of Hogwart’s lovely charm.

A wave of warmth from the fireplace in the corner washed over you like a blanket. The sudden temperature change brought on a case of chills across your body. A small shudder flowed through you.

Your eyes scanned the table on the far end of the room—its dark wooden surface topped with deep green runners and dishes of food. Sitting alongside the farthest end of the table were the most familiar faces in the entire school. A gentle smile appeared across your lips at the sight of your friends chatting and laughing together.

You approached the table with the same smile painted on. As you drew closer and caught a few eyes, you raised your hand for a polite wave. All of a sudden, you were a bit more awake than you had been.

A set of bright eyes turned and locked with yours, prompting a jolt of energy through your chest. You settled in next to the owner of those special eyes, allowing him to wrap his arm around you and pull you in close.

“How was your day, tesoro?” Theo asked, pressing a small kiss to the side of your head.

“It was good. What about yours?” you asked. He shrugged and flashed you a smile. He’d never been one to talk much about his day.

You gathered some food onto your plate, Theo never taking his arm from around you even when he went back to eating.

“So, how was everyone’s day?” Enzo asked cheekily, eyeing the two of you. The young man in front of you had always had a deep insistence that you and Theodore Nott would be the perfect couple.

“You’re perfect for each other,” he would say. “You compliment each other so well, plus you’re already so comfortable around each other!” To which, you’d always laugh and shake your head, only mostly ignoring the fantasies that would twirl through your mind after the fact.

You were not going to date Theodore Nott. He was your best friend—had been for years.

“Fine, thanks,” you replied snarkily, popping some kind of berry into your mouth. It crunched between your teeth pleasantly, bleeding dark, sweet juice. It was unlike any other fruits you’d ever tasted, but you never knew what you were going to taste at Hogwarts.

“Mm, you’ve got a bit of—” Theo started. Still chewing on a bit of food, he ran the thumb of his free hand over the corner of your lip and promptly placed it against his tongue. He sucked the flavor off of his skin, then turned back to his dinner.

It didn’t much bother you, just ignited a bit of heat against the wall of your gut. Mattheo and Enzo, however, acted like they’d just seen someone hurl into the dinner bowls.

“Hello, friends!”

The group turned to face Pansy Parkinson. A dainty, but lean girl with striking black hair cut across her cheeks in sharp, even lines. She was truly one of your only female friends, considering how often you hung around a male party.

“Hey, Pans!” The group chorused, offering lazy waves and full-mouthed smiles. She smiled a bit and took a seat next to Enzo. She selected an apple from the bowl just before her and took a large chunk out of it, her pale eyes flicking around the table.

“Why are you all so quiet?” she mumbled around chunks of apple.

Enzo snuck his arm down beneath the table and discreetly bumped Pansy’s ribs with his elbow twice. They were sure you hadn’t seen their little gesture that translated to ‘I’ll fill you in later,’ but you most definitely had.

You struggled not to roll your eyes as you knew they’d gossip for hours about how you and Theo would be the perfect couple. Honestly, it used to bother you a bit, knowing your friends were talking about you behind your back. But with a quick and direct questioning of Enzo, you realized that they weren’t so much gossiping about you as they were rooting for you. Their support didn’t matter, though. You would not be dating Theodore Nott.

***

That night, as you had begun to settle in for bed, you found yourself thinking of Theo. You always thought of him around bed time. There was never really a time when your best friend wasn’t floating around your head, but at night, when you were recapping your day, you thought of him.

Theo had a nasty habit of popping into your head at the worst of times. During tests, holidays with your families, your dreams, and even when you…when you would get into bed and slide the velvet drapes hung around the frame shut, and let your hands slide beneath the covers.

You swallowed thickly at the thought. You would not be dating Theodore Nott. No matter if he did cross your mind when you touched yourself. You inhaled shakily and slid beneath the covers, ignoring the ache in your chest and the pulsing between your legs.

***

The next morning, you found yourself wandering down to the Great Hall just as you had done the night before for dinner.

And just like last night, Pansy, Enzo, Mattheo, and Theo were waiting for you just like they always were.

You slid into the space beside Theo and laid a sleepy head against his shoulder, letting a slightly dramatic huff out.

“Oh dear, looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning,” Theo teased, placing a kiss to the top of your head. The audience members before you each made a different face at the show of affection. It never bothered you and it had seemingly never bothers Theo, but your friends had a habit of turning it into something it didn’t need to be.

“Yes, I did,” you sighed. “I barely slept a wink last night—I was tossing and turning all night.” Which was not a lie, but a bit of an understatement. Your sleep had been plagued with visions of Theo.

Theo looking at you, Theo kissing you, Theo touching you, Theo Theo Theo. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Theo looked down at you. You met his eyes.

“Is everything alright?” he asked.

“Yes, why?”

“You’re clenching my arm really hard,” he chuckled, glancing down at your clutched fist around his arm. Oh. You quickly let go of him and apologized, embarrassed that he was having such a physical effect on you. You’d never been so distracted before. Sure, you’d had these thoughts of Theo before but it had never affected you in your everyday life, and certainly not in front of him.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” Enzo interrupted. You turned and the three sitting across from you all seemed to be staring with concern.

“You seem out of it…,” Mattheo said, looking you up and down. Pansy voiced a small agreement.

“I’m fine,” you chuckled nervously. Theo placed a hand on your back and began to rub comforting circles around the center of your spine.

His touch against you was almost too much to bear.

You shied away from him and, forcing a smile, you got to your feet and quickly excused yourself. You knew if you looked back, all of them would still be staring at you but you needed to get away. Theo’s hand on your back was nearly enough to make you come undone.

These altered feelings of him had your mind running haywire.

You scurried off down the halls, twisting and turning, and avoiding any and everyone. The Slytherin dungeons weren’t that far from the Great Hall, but every step you took made the hallway feel as if it was elongating. It felt as though you would never reach it and as if you’d be walking for the rest of eternity, when you came upon the secret entrance.

You mumbled the password then slipped through the doorway.

Other than a few scattered students, there was practically no one in the common room. Hopefully you’d be able to get a bit of privacy upstairs in your bedroom.

Thoughts of Theo swirled around your head, threatening to fall in on you and drown you in your own desire. You had no idea why he was having such an effect on you.

Once you came upon the door to your dorm, you pushed through the door, slammed it quickly behind you, and collapsed onto your bed. A quick survey of the room told you that it was empty, except for your panting body.

You set yourself against your pillows, drawing your knees to your chest and wrapping your arms around them. If you kept having such an issue, you were just going to have to avoid your friends for the next few days.

You refused to let any silly thoughts get in the way of your friendship with Theo. You’d had plenty of intrusive thoughts pertaining to him in the past. That didn’t mean you were in love with him or had any feelings for him other than platonic. People had weird thoughts about their friends all of the time—it didn’t make them true.

A knock on the door drove its way through your train of thought. A small jolt ran through your body at the sudden sound.

Assuming it was just one of your roommates, you invited them in. But one of your roommates did not walk through the door. Theo did.

Upon seeing him, you shot up to a sitting position almost immediately.

“Theo—I didn’t know it was you, I’d really like to be alone right now if—”

“That’s fine. I’ll leave as soon as you tell me what’s wrong.”

His eyes were stern with his jaw clenched tightly, the muscle running across the bone rippling with every grind of his teeth. If you didn’t know this boy like the back of your hand, you might’ve mistook his concern for fury.

“Nothing’s wrong. Like I said, I’m just tired.”

“There’s something else,” he spoke. “I can tell. I’ve known you for nearly as long as I’ve been alive. Do you seriously think I can’t tell when something’s bothering you? You brushed away my hand, you—you barely looked at me earlier. You’ve never, ever turned me away like that—and if you decide you’re done with me, w-with us—that’s fine, but I deserve an explanation.” He stepped forward and left nothing but a few inches between the two of you. “I demand one.”

His ramble ended with deep, heaving breaths, his eyes staring down at you with longing and panic, and your saliva nearly getting caught in your throat. If you hadn’t closed your mouth that had been gaping open, you might’ve choked.

He stood so closely, you could feel his breaths on your chest. You attempted to avoid his eyes but it was as if he’d locked you to him. You couldn’t pull away.

“Theo, I’m not…done with you,” you exhaled shakily, “I always want you.”

His eyes softened a bit.

“Er, to be here with me as my friend!” you gasped out quickly, trying to ease the landing of the borderline confession you’d just spouted out.

His mouth dropped a bit as he seemed almost disappointed. Surely he didn’t feel the same way.

“What if I want to be here with you…but as more than just a friend,” he whispered. His deep voice rumbled beneath the pressure of his chapped lips. You couldn’t help but glance down at them briefly.

Once you had, his breath hitched in his throat just a bit, and you knew he’d seen you. You knew he’d seen your eyes dart from his deep, crystalline eyes to his barely parted lips. His tongue swiped over his bottom lip, just enough to grant them some hydration from how deeply the two of you had been breathing. A shudder passed through you at the sight.

“What’s…more than a friend?” you breathed, your voice wavering as you found it increasingly harder to pull your eyes away from his lips.

What a stupid thing to ask.

“I want to show you what it is,” he said. “I want you to feel what more than a friend is.”

You almost jumped out of your skin when the tips of his fingers brushed against your forearm. He seemed to be testing the waters and, though your reaction wasn’t exactly calm, must have decided that it was okay to move forward again. The fingers from the opposite hand brushed alongside your other arm.

“Let me show you what it feels like,” he whispered.

“I don’t want to lose anything we have because of one stupid mistake—because we couldn’t control ourselves,” you said, biting your lip nervously. You knew it was a cruel thing to say but it was the truth. Theo was the best thing that had ever happened to you, even before you couldn’t escape the feeling of his eyes on you.

“I won’t let anything change us,” he said. “Let me give you all of me before you decide you need some of me.”

Shakily, you pressed your lips together and nodded slowly. You were all his.

He smiled just a bit, a shaking breath pushing through his lips as if he’d been holding it for a while.

His hands were slow and patient, carefully mapping out every place he intended to touch and ensuring that it was completely okay with you before doing so.

Fingers traced over your hips and across your ribs through your uniform shirt. Even through the material, you felt his simulated touch eliciting chills across your stomach and arms. He smirked a bit at the way the small hairs there stood up.

“Can I touch your skin?” he asked, his eyes finding yours. You nodded in response.

At your immediate consent, he took no time in easing the hem of your shirt out from beneath your skirt. The tucked-in material had created indentations along your flesh from pressing into it all day. His fingers traced along the swirls of marks across your hips.

His hot skin on yours was nearly too much to handle—you swore you felt your knees buckle.

After the initial shyness of skin-on-skin, you could feel Theo’s hands splay wide on either side of your hips and move across your abdomen and all the way to the back. His fingers brushed across the strap of your bra just as a raging heat split your stomach in two.

“Can I?” he asked. Of course, you nodded.

With a second set of permissions, he felt even bolder. He sucked in a strong breath and, with quick and intense movements, brought his hands out from beneath your shirt and began to unfasten the buttons.

With each button he pulled open, he placed a hot kiss to the skin revealed. Your breaths came in deep heaves, your chest lurching towards him pathetically.

His tongue brushed over the cleavage split evenly by the pressure of your bra. With your chest nearly completely revealed to him, Theo’s eyes darkened severely.

His eyes found yours again. The two of you regained consciousness for only a moment to realize where you were and what you were doing, before you clasped your hands around his head and pulled his mouth to yours.

With a fiery desire, he slipped his hands beneath your thighs and, with subtle clumsiness, lifted you off the floor just enough to push you up against the stone wall in the corner.

A shy moan slipped from between your lips at the feeling of your body trapped in between him and the wall.

His lips devoured yours like a man starved. He drank up every drop of saliva granted by each slide of your tongue along his, never wasting a single bit. His hands gripped at you mercilessly—at your hips, your chest, your ass. It wasn’t long before your shirt was completely unbuttoned and slid messily down your shoulders and your shoes slipped off and kicked somewhere into the corner.

As the two of you took a moment to breath, noses pressed to each other and breaths intermingling, Theo contemplated his next moves.

“I want to take care of you,” he heaved, a bead of sweat sliding down his sharply detailed throat.

“Please… have me as you will,” you whined, hardly able to stand being away from him in these few seconds.

The sounds of your begging did nothing but urge him forward, cutting through every strap of restraint he may have still had. He fucking loved it.

“Let me make you feel good,” he whispered.

He slid his finger down across your neck, tightening his grip just barely around your throat, then sliding them down across your breasts. He kneaded the sore tissue there, reveling in the way your lips parted at the feeling.

His fingers slid over the metal clasp that sat squarely between your breasts, shining in the firelight, waiting for him to separate it.

Before touching your chest any further, he wrapped his hands around your thighs once more and wrapped them around his waist, balancing you against the wall behind you.

His fingers then returned to their post at your bra and effortlessly split the clasp. The pressure of your breasts popped the fabric apart, quickly revealing your chest to the boy before you.

He moaned at the sight of your gorgeous chest and could not resist from placing his lips around each nipple, swirling his tongue around them perfectly. Your head fell back against the wall, your hands clutching at this hair, your legs wrapped around his body.

“You’re so perfect—gonna make you feel so good,” he mumbled.

His hands and lips reluctantly separated from your chest and pulled you away from the wall for just a moment. He walked you over to the recession in the wall where the windowsill waited for your body weight.

The drapes were pulled together but you imagined that you wouldn’t be so angry if they weren’t.

Theo set you down against the cool stone and slid your hips against him.

With no regard for what you were going to do for your next day of classes, he roughly split your tights to reveal the bottoms beneath.

He let out a moan at the sight of you—you were better than he’d ever imagined.

Flipping your skirt up, he traced a single, trained finger over the slit of fabric covering the most sensitive part of your body. You let out a wavering moan at the sensation, gripping onto his shoulders tightly.

“Please, Theo, no more teasing,” you groaned, sliding your hips closer to his. The motion pressed your core against his, creating a type of friction that was more than delicious. The both of you paused and shuddered against each other’s mouth.

If Theo had any restraint left in his body, it was this that destroyed it.

He slid a finger beneath the material of your bottoms and slid them to the side, revealing you to the cool air. You shuddered a bit at the feeling, not prepared for the sudden change in temperature.

He traced his fingers along your folds again, collecting slicks of moisture along them. You could barely keep up with his pace, not sure whether to moan or cry or beg for more.

Once soaked enough, he slid a finger into you, allowing you to stretch around it. You cried out to the night air, clutching at his shirt like you might slip away from this world if he kept easing you open just as he was.

There were blinks of time where he’d slip another finger in just beside the other, stretching you farther than you’d ever been before, but you could hardly grasp where you were in time and space. All you could feel, think, smell, hear, taste was Theodore Nott.

When years had passed and he’d built you up to your climax twice already, he decided that he was ready to give you all of him.

The layer of sweat across your body and cloud of exhaustion that plagued your mind seemed to be no obstacle for a still very wired Theo. He was ready to fuck himself into you until you were begging for mercy. He’d been waiting for this for years.

“Turn over for me, sweetheart,” he said lovingly, a stark contrast to the brutality with which he’d worked you apart.

Slow-moving from exhaustion but still eager for more of his touch, you forced yourself onto your stomach. Your hands gripped onto the drapes for some sense of purchase—hopefully they wouldn’t collapse down around the two of you, revealing both of your bodies to the world.

When the rustling of his clothing and the clinking of his belt hit your ears, the entire lower half of your body twinged in anticipation. You gasped lowly as his hands slipped beneath your skirt, slowly smoothing his fingers over the fabric of your bottoms before gripping them and sliding them down your legs.

He allowed you to step out of them before he pushed you back up against the stone and slid himself across your entrance. You sucked in a breath sharply at the sensation, your fingers digging into the canvas drapes so tightly they burned white around the knuckles.

One hand gripped your bare hips while the other slowly guided himself into you all the way to the hilt. The slow stretch he had provided you before was nothing compared to the fire burning below now. Your eyes clenched shut, bursts of tears slipping down your cheeks.

“Breathe, bella,” he groaned softly as he allowed you to adjust while refraining from going as fast and as hard as he could.

It took only a moment before you asked him to move, and begged him to claim you fully. And then he was controlling every inch of what you received, ruthlessly, yet lovingly.

The silence of the room was filled with his breathless groans, your stuttering words, and the force of his hips hitting yours. You’d hardly be able to stand if it weren’t for his strong hands holding your hips up, keeping you just where he wanted you for each force of his hips.

With each passing second, you found your grip on the fabric above you becoming weaker and your ability to hold yourself up diminishing. With the pace he’d set, you’d be finishing any minute and he knew it.

And by the way his speed stuttered every so often and his hands gripped onto the fabric of your skirt, you figured he couldn’t be far behind you.

Your naked breasts lightly scraped against the stone with every push from behind, rubbing the sensitive skin just enough to push you over your edge and crash within yourself. You cried out from the force of the pleasure that hit you.

As soon as you had managed to finish against him, the tightening of your muscles tipped him over the cliff side he stood atop, forcing him to the waves below.

He worked himself through his climax before slowing to a stop and collapsing against you. The sweat on your skin mingled together, creating a hot seal between your bodies. You could hardly catch your breath between the windowsill pressed against you and the strong man behind you.

“Theo,” you whined. “Get off…”

He responded with a huff and a moment’s silence, before pushing off of you. Your skin separated with a sticky pull.

He gently pulled you away from the window, slid your messed skirt down and helped you slide into your bed. He slid in next to you for just a moment.

“I think I’m about to pass out and sleep for the next 48 hours,” you chuckled lazily.

“Would you say I gave enough of myself?” he smirked, brushing a strand away from your forehead.

“I’d say it was more than enough,” you said, rolling your eyes at his confidence.

“Well, I’m yours anytime you want me.” He pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead, before getting to his feet and beginning to redress.

“No,” you fussed. “Why are you leaving?”

“Because it’s the middle of the day and I’m missing my classes,” he laughed, tightening his belt back to its proper place.

“I am too—just skip with me today,” you begged.

“No, darling, I’ve got to get back to class. I’ve got too many assignments due today. I’ll let them know you won’t be making it in today, though.”

“What are you going to tell them if they ask?” you asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“Mm, I’ll let them know that you had a rough morning and you’re gonna sleep it off.”

He smirked meanly before slipping through the dorm door and leaving you in silence, bundled up in your bed and nearly too tired to even try and get ready for classes.

One day off wouldn’t be too big of a deal.

- - -

Tag List: @lilymurphy03 , @mypolicemanharryyy , @clairesjointshurt , @bunbunbl0gs , @acornacreacure, @niktwazny303 , @thestarlithideout , @sarahskakskskskajakwwnwjw , @yhiiil, @ravenclawprincess33 , @xxrougefangxx , @thatblackthorn, @robinyx , @starsval , @jolly4holly , @blvebanisters , @chgrch, @abaker74, @ilovehotmenandwoman, @kissesbyarabella, @synicaljah (If you would like to be added to the tag list, please shoot me a DM! Thanks!)

[kandized]

cravings & consequences -- polytrix

summary. it goes without saying that zoey is the nicest member of Huntrix. not that the other members aren't, zoey is just really sweet. And maybe her therapist would say its from her people pleaser tendencies. but zoey didn’t agree, that’s just how she was and she wouldn’t want it any other way. but once a month--when her uterus finally empties itself out, blood and flesh coming in clumps, quite literally bullying her for deciding not to procreate--once a month, that halo tilts.

warning. period sex. vaginal fingering. blood as slick/lube. polyamory. zoemi content. zomira content. established poly couple. only zoemi actually do anything. in relation to my demon rumi au, so g!p rumi technically. dom!mira. top!rumi. bottom!zoey. bratty, bratty zoey. tampon removal. unconventional intimacy. again, period sex but it's not a kink for me so I didn't focus on it I just wanted to write bratty zoey. a/n. if you guys think this is lowk ooc then lmk bc idk I think zoey deserves to be bratty and mean. also my reqs are very much open! ^^. ao3. pt.2?

it goes without saying that zoey is the nicest member of huntr/x.

it wasn't that the other girls, weren't, zoey was just the sweetest.

and maybe her therapist would say its from her people pleaser tendencies, that she just had this innate nature to want to please everyone.

but zoey didn’t agree, that’s just how she was and she wouldn’t want it any other way. always offering to carry gear, share her snacks, walk the stylists to their cars at night. always the first to text a “you got this ♡” before a shoot and the last to leave the set if someone’s still packing up.

but once a month?

once a month, that halo tilts.

and today?

it was practically sliding off her head.

“I told you I didn’t want the damn water bottles, mira,” zoey whined, yanking her hoodie tighter around her middle as she curled deeper into the couch. “It smells like rubber.”

Mira blinked, holding the bright pink bottle in one hand and a bag of sour gummies in the other. “It’s almost like the bottle is made of plastic, zoey. that’s expected. either way, drinking water helps—”

“Oh, thank you, Doctor Google.” zoey cut her off with a faux shocked look. “I’ve never heard of hydration! should I try breathing next too? or! if I flutter my lashes fast enough it might make it go away!”

she didn’t stop there.

“like, do you think I haven’t tried that? you think I’ve just been lying here, in my little cocoon of suffering, refusing salvation? be serious, mir.”

that one had mira stunned into a low, breathy laugh, her eyebrows lifting halfway to her hairline as she tried to hold it together. “you woke up with your teeth sharp today, huh?”

zoey didn’t miss a beat. “and I’ll use ’em. you wanna find out?”

mira's grip on the bottle tightened. her aura shifted, and zoey felt it—like a pressure spike in her chest.

The bond between them flared hot, and zoey could feel the heat of mira’s frustration roll over her like steam.

it made her grin.

“zoey,” mira warned, voice low and taut, tossing the gummies onto zoey's lap as she sat beside her with a measured, almost too-slow ease. like she was restraining herself from lunging.

zoey opened the pack, popping a gummy into her mouth with the most obnoxious squelch imaginable. “whaat? I say ‘can you get me a case or two of Dr. Pepper please’ super nicely—even flutter my big brown eyes at you. but nooo, you show up with this glorified bottle of lake juice instead!”

mira sucked in a slow breath through her nose, and zoey felt it again—that burn of agitation and restraint pulse through the bond. It lit her up from the inside.

It was thrilling.

“yes, I did show up with this glorified lake water,” mira ground out, her jaw flexing, “because I’m not buying you two cases of Zero Sugar Vanilla Dr. Pepper just so you can be dizzy, dehydrated, and dramatic all day, per usual!”

“besides,” she added, holding the bottle up like a peace offering she was two seconds away from hurling, “this is spring water, not lake. It’s good for you in the long run.”

“and I’m still not going to drink it, so that really sounds like a you problem, go get me my Dr. Pepper.” zoey bit back, immediately feeling a but of regret stir in her chest.

she could feel it now. the moment the temperature shifted in mira’s head. anger, desire.

zoey blinked and swallowed slightly, feeling the way mira's patience strained like a rubber band pulled to the edge of snapping.

a thrill licked up her spine.

she might have gone too far.

mira paused, eyes narrowing, her jaw tight, hands clenched.

oh, she was pissed.

and zoey could sense the pull in her—like mira didn’t know whether to throw her across the couch or into the mattress.

“zoey.”

“what.”

“watch your mouth.”

zoey turned toward her, eyes narrow, lip curling in mock confusion. “what? this one?” she tapped her lips with a gummy-stained finger.

mira was still, flustered. a little aroused, a lot confused.

her mind was a warzone, and zoey could feel it—feel her trying to hold the line between patience and primal instinct, between the version of her that wanted to tuck zoey in and give her everything she’s ever wanted and the one that wanted to push her far down in the sheets and make her shut up.

zoey licked sugar off her thumb, nice and slow.

mira's fists clenched.

“yes, zoey. that mouth, the mouth I’m going to slap you in if you keep it up,” she muttered, voice low and ragged.

“ohoho! a threat? that's not very nice, Mi-Mi!” Zoey gasped, hand over her heart. “you would hit a girl on her period?“

“you're acting like a child, some children need to be spanked.”

zoey’s face heated up, but she continued anyway. “and yet…” zoey leaned back with a smug smile. “you’re still here, sitting right next to me with your tail tucked between your legs. so what’s that say about you?”

mira exhaled a sharp breath, trying to fight back the grin tugging at her lips. “it says I have a deep tolerance for pain.”

“or a humiliation kink.”

mira gritted her teeth, “say one more thing.”

“one more thing.”

“enough.”

zoey giggled, head tilting like a curious little demon. Her voice dropped to a whisper, low and daring. “you look like you wanna hurt me.”

the bond between them flared—heat, tension, want. mira could feel zoey’s pulse spike and Mira could feel the heat curling in zoey’s stomach, feel the thrill radiating from her like perfume.

the air felt charged, heavy with everything unsaid and everything imagined.

and then it snapped.

not the control. not the restraint. just the moment.

“I do,” mira growled, leaning in so close their noses nearly brushed. her voice was a low, dangerous rasp. “you’re lucky Rumi’s out doing PR. If not, I would’ve already corrected this pathetic little attitude.”

zoey’s smirk widened, reckless and taunting. “please—”

but before she could finish, mira’s hand slid up her thigh, slow and purposeful. but this time, she didn’t stop at the outside.

she slipped inside zoey's shorts.

the heat hit her instantly—wet, pulsing, aching. mira inhaled sharply. her fingers dipped between slick, bloody folds, stroking slow and purposeful. zoey’s whole body jerked, the breath leaving her in a sharp gasp.

“shh.”

mira’s other hand came up to cup her face, thumb grazing over zoey’s lips as her fingers circled her clit with aching precision.

the reaction was immediate—zoey’s hips twitched, her thighs clenched, and a low, broken whimper escaped her throat.

mira felt it all through the bond and more: the surge of pain dulled by pleasure, the raw, burning sensitivity that came with the timing—how everything felt too much, too deep, too sharp—and exactly what she needed.

zoey was aching.

mira blinked, realization clicking in place like puzzle pieces. her voice softened, low and rough. “aww, is this what you needed, zoey?”

zoey didn’t answer—couldn’t. her mouth parted but no words came, just a desperate exhale as her body rolled helplessly into mira's touch. her eyes fluttered shut, lips trembling.

mira leaned closer, her mouth brushing zoey’s ear as her fingers moved with just enough pressure to keep her squirming.

“If you needed attention, pretty girl,” she murmured, voice almost tender in contrast to the possessive grip below, “i’d have been more than happy to give it to you.”

zoey bit her lip, hard. her lashes fluttered, her brows knit. “mir..! mmmn.” she moaned, she was close—closer than she expected, everything amplified from the sharp ache in her belly to the raw heat in her chest.

mira let her teeter, let her hover.

“but antagonizing it out of me? that’s not the trick.” mira continued, pressing her fingers into zoey’s clit before, suddenly, pulling away.

her hand slid away with aching slowness, leaving zoey wet and twitching, painfully aware of everything she didn’t get, lips parted in disbelief.

mira stood, every movement calm and effortless, like she wasn’t still thrumming with the need to fuck zoey into silence, bulge pressing against her sweats.

her gaze dropped once, lingering on zoey’s parted thighs.

“think about your actions while I go get your cases of Dr. Pepper and some other things,” she said simply, grabbing a napkin from the side table and wiping her fingers. “and we’ll see if you can ask instead of demand for what you want like a good girl.”

then she turned and walked out, leaving zoey speechless, trembling, and throbbing with heat that had nowhere to go.

zoey stared, stunned and breathless, her body pulsing with frustration and need.

mira smiled faintly, grabbing a napkin from the coffee table and wiping the faint blood from her fingers. “I love you, zo.”

then she turned on her heel and left, the door clicking shut behind her, leaving zoey flushed, soaked, and trembling on the couch, half in pain, half in pleasure, and completely wrecked by the weight of everything mira didn’t finish.

the elevator sounded shut, the sound of it dragging downstairs rung throughout the house, but the silence she left behind was deafening.

zoey laid there, body buzzing—her clit throbbing, her thighs damp, her breath still shallow from the touch that hadn’t gone nearly far enough.

she grabbed one of the pillows from the couch in anger, throwing it aimlessly. “ugh!” she groaned out, slumping back against the couch.

her hips twitched again, involuntarily, chasing that ghost of pressure. the place Mira’s fingers had circled burned now—sharp and hot and cruelly empty.

she whined, soft and breathy, curling onto her side and grabbing another pillow, dragging it between her thighs, grinding against it.

she slowly dragged her hips, her hard clit brushing against the fabric of her panties gave her a buzzy feeling. Her entire body stuttering as she sped up.

It felt amazing, yet all it did was frustrate her more. It was too much and not enough, everything felt too sharp, her skin too sensitive from the mix of hormones and that cursed, slow-burning bond.

she slipped a hand into her shorts.

It was instant—too wet, too swollen, her body begging. she didn’t care about the blood, she just needed to get off but even her own fingers felt wrong. not enough pressure, not the right rhythm.

her wrist trembled as she tried to keep a steady pace, but the pulse between her legs just kept building into something jagged and unsatisfying.

“ugh—” she groaned, flopping her head back against the cushion with a frustrated whimper. “miiiraaa, I hate you—”

ding.

the elevator sounded, the doors opened with a soft swish.

zoey yanked her hand out of her shorts and sat up fast, face flushed and thighs pressed tight together.

just in time.

“rumi?” she called out, voice half an octave too high, trying to sound casual.

“I’m here, zo.” rumi stepped into the room, arms full with a couple gift bags marked from the talk show’s green room, her eyes lighting up when she spotted zoey on the couch. “why’s your face so red?”

zoey quickly yanked the blanket over her lap, smoothing it down like that would somehow erase the evidence. “It’s hot in here,” she mumbled, wiping at her forehead for dramatic flair. “and I have really bad cramps, per usual. probably. I don’t know, stop looking at me like that.”

rumi chuckled softly but her brows still furrowed, concern softening her features as she came closer and set the bags down.

“it doesn’t matter,” zoey added quickly, seeing her expression. “how was the game show? did it go well?”

“it was fun. i really wanted you guys there, though. mira always makes the most constipated faces when the cameras cut to her after she’s been spacing out.”

“you’re so cute,” zoey giggled, playing it off as she scooted closer to the edge of the couch, fingers curling around rumi’s wrist. gentle, soft, needy.

the room settled into a quiet hum before rumi's voice slid in gently. “i felt it,” she murmured. “one of you was really upset, pent up. was it you?”

zoey’s heart skipped, her clit throbbed.

of course rumi had felt it. the bond always stirred with heat when one of them cracked open emotionally—and zoey had been cracking like ice under pressure since mira left her high and dry on the couch.

but then, something clicked.

her lashes fluttered, pout deepened. A tiny spark of mischief curled beneath the need.

this could work in her favor.

she looked up at rumi standing above her, soft stomach exposed, “mira was teasing me,” she said dramatically. “my cramps are really bad and i asked her to help me, then she… stopped. she got me all worked up and then just—left.

zoey leaned back slightly, keeping the blanket wrapped around her as she gave rumi a look equal parts mischief and desperation. “It’s not just the cramps, ru…”

there was a pause.

rumi blinked.

“ohhh,” she said quietly, her cheeks tinting just slightly. “i see.”

zoey nodded, playing the role to perfection. “i asked her to help me, but she left me like this instead.”

rumi chewed her bottom lip, the connection between them humming faintly. she could feel it now—zoey’s frustration, the ache humming under her skin. It was real.

and rumi was… gentle, affection, attuned to every flicker of emotion through the bond. and more than anything, she hated seeing zoey like this.

“you’re burning up,” she said quietly, crouching down beside the couch and brushing her fingers gently against zoey’s jaw. “why didn’t you just call me before the game show started?”

“i didn’t wanna bug you,” zoey mumbled, leaning into the touch, knowing she was probably too busy mouthing off to mira to call.

rumi smiled softly. “you’re never a bug.”

there was a long pause.

zoey looked at her, lashes fluttering.

“…would it be bugging you now?” she asked in a soft, teasing whisper. “if i said i still needed help?”

rumi shook her head slightly as she moved to sit beside her on the couch, letting out a sigh as the cushions dipped beneath her. “mira said you’d try something like this.”

zoey blinked innocently, pulling the blanket tighter around herself. “hm?” she asked, all faux sweetness.

rumi gave her a look. “manipulating your way into getting what you want.”

zoey gasped, placing a hand dramatically on her chest. “you think I’m manipulative?”

“i know you are.”

“i prefer persistent. And I’m in paiinn,” Zoey whined, curling in closer, resting her head gently on Rumi’s shoulder. “it’s your job to help me feel better… you know. you are my girlfriend.” zoey pouted.

rumi let out a soft sigh, clearly at a dilemma. “she told me that you were being mouthy, and demanding. not listening to what she was saying.”

zoey’s face grew amused. “oh really? what else did she say about me?”

“she also told me not to touch you,” rumi said, tone dipping into something firmer, more serious. “under any circumstance. said you needed to ‘sit in what you stirred.’ learn to ask for what you want.”

zoey rolled her eyes, lips brushing against rumi’s collarbone as she nestled into her. “yeah. she told me to think about my actions too, to be good and maybe she would help me get off.”

“and did you,” rumi raised a brow, looking down at zoey, “think about your actions?” she finished.

zoey sat up, nodding slowly, expression serious for once. “yeah, I did. I thought about how stupid it is that she’d wind me up like that and then leave me with nothing but a blanket and my pride.” she paused. “which is very thin, by the way.”

rumi huffed softly, trying not to smile. she could still feel the heat buzzing—zoey’s arousal wasn’t just a ploy. it was real and tangible. She was soaked in it, practically humming.

“you’re terrible,” rumi muttered.

“I’m suffering,” zoey corrected. “and you’re warm, and soft. and you look really, really pretty when you’re blushing.”

rumi tried to look away again, but zoey pressed a kiss to her cheek, then her neck, “and you smell really, really good.”

rumi couldn’t help herself as her thighs clenched together. It was the way zoey’s voice lowered into that sweet, flirty tone made something stir in her.

“…please?” she whispered, mouth brushing near rumi’s ear, kissing just under the place Rumi loves. “just for a little bit? she doesn’t have to know.”

rumi’s pulse stuttered, patterns pulsing under her shirt.

she shouldn’t. she really shouldn’t.

mira would feel it—she always did. the bond between them was too sensitive now. they were too close.

and when mira gave instructions, she expected obedience.

period.

“rumi,” zoey said again, a little breathier this time, her knee brushing rumi’s. “i need you.”

but rumi exhaled sharply, her voice tight as she tried to keep what was left of her resolve. “Fuck, zo. I can’t get in trouble too. you know mira. plus… i have events tomorrow. if she finds out I touched you after she told me not to—”

she shivered. “her punishments aren’t playful. they aren’t the cute little orgasm denials you like to do.”

zoey rolled her eyes but let rumi continue. “they’re designed to break you down slow. like… she’ll be sweet about it at first, saying she’s disappointed. and then she just keeps going until you’re begging to be good again.”

zoey’s thighs pressed together, and rumi noticed the way her chest rose a little too quickly.

“she cockwarmed me for four hours once while she worked on music,” rumi added under her breath. “four hours. not allowed to speak, come, or move unless spoken to. i thought that was it.”

“…it wasn’t?” zoey asked, biting her lip.

“she made me thank her for even giving me attention every hour. then at the end, she kissed me like I was the most precious thing in the world—and told me not to forget it.”

zoey swallowed, squirming just slightly under the blanket. “okay but… that sounds kinda hot.”

“zoey.”

“i’m serious!” she whispered, trying to keep her voice low even though her smile was coming back. “you’re literally turning me on more.”

rumi rolled her eyes—but the blush was rising fast now. “you’re impossible.”

zoey leaned in again, brushing her nose against rumi’s jaw. “just touch me,” she pleaded, voice barely a whisper. “she’ll punish me anyway and have mercy on you because I roped you into it and you have events. might as well make it worth it, right?”

the blanket slipped again, baring more of her thigh—skin flushed and inviting—and rumi cursed softly under her breath.

“…i’m only doing this to help with your cramps,” she muttered, even as her eyes dragged over zoey's lazy, teasing smile.

“of course,” zoey whispered sweetly, stretching under the blanket like a cat in a patch of sun. “strictly medicinal.”

rumi rolled her eyes and moved the blanket aside, then tugged her shorts and panties down in one fell swoop, guiding them over zoey’s hips, thighs, and off completely. her fingers were deft, gentle, respectful—but her eyes lingered a moment longer than they should’ve.

rumi blinked, then raised an eyebrow. “you still have your tampon in.”

zoey pouted, her voice dipping soft and teasing. “did you plan on using your fingers?”

rumi looked around like zoey had just asked the dumbest question. “yeah? that’s what makes you feel the best.”

zoey blinked, caught off guard by how casual and certain rumi was about it—her stomach gave a little flutter, the kind that had nothing to do with cramps.

there was something grounding in Rumi’s steadiness. that even now, when zoey was flushed and needy and a little embarrassed, she wasn’t phased.

it was strange to zoey. normally, they didn’t do this sort of thing on her period. she never asked, just waited until it was over.

they always respected her boundaries, never pushed, always asked if zoey wanted to and that they didn’t mind, careful not to make her feel gross or exposed.

rumi never cared, she was on a demon’s appetite, and if blood was involved, it only made her more ravenous.

she’d licked it from Zoey's inner thigh on numerous occasions, whispered about how sweet she tasted—zoey had never fully recovered from those memories.

“blood doesn’t scare me, zoey,” rumi murmured as she reached for a few napkins on the coffee table and folded one in her hand. her voice was so calm, like she was reassuring her about a splinter and not what was about to happen between her legs.

“lift up a little.”

zoey obeyed, lifting her hips gently as rumi tugged her panties down next, the damp cotton sliding free with a quiet rustle. she hesitated for only a second, then reached between her legs and carefully found the tampon’s string, fingers delicate as she eased it out. she wrapped it in a napkin quickly, efficiently, and dabbed softly at the inside of Zoey’s thighs to clean up.

this wasn’t gross to her—it’s Zoey. just soft and natural and intimate in a way that made her chest flutter.

the blanket was bunched beneath her like a towel now, and zoey felt everything—how exposed she was, how cared for, how seen.

rumi settled between her thighs, one hand anchoring lightly on her leg while the other moved with gentle certainty.

and when her fingers finally brushed over her, warm and slow and right where she needed it, zoey gasped, her eyes fluttering shut.

god, finally.

her thoughts scattered instantly. she couldn’t even pretend to keep still.

the ache that had coiled low in her belly for hours unraveled all at once, melting into rumi’s careful touch like wax under a match.

she was so sensitive.

it’d been too long since anyone touched her like this—tender, attentive, patient. and it was rumi, which only made everything worse. Or better. Or both.

her body trembled under every slow drag of rumi’s fingers, like she was a live wire, every nerve raw and begging. it felt like she could break open at any moment.

Rumi, blushing but focused, murmured, “you better hope she takes it easy on me for this…” her breath was warm against zoey’s skin. “or I’ll have something for you too.”

zoey’s lips curled slowly, sultry and unhurried. Her voice came out in a breathless hum, heavy with arousal and something playful underneath. “mmm. promise?”

instead of answering right away, rumi leaned in, lips grazing her throat. she pressed soft, lingering kisses just below zoey’s jaw—sweet at first, then slower, hungrier.

her fingers moved in time with her mouth, still gentle but firm now, rubbing over zoey’s aching bud with just the right pressure. slow, circular, unforgiving in the way it built without pause.

“promise,” rumi whispered, voice low against zoey’s pulse.

zoey let out a low moan, her back arching as her thighs tensed on instinct, hips twitching helplessly.

her eyes squeezed shut, but the pleasure was vivid, explosive behind her lids. it swallowed her up. all of her earlier sass melted into breathless whimpers and trembling limbs.

rumi’s hand stayed steady, but her other one moved to zoey’s waist, grounding her as she worked her through it. she watched her carefully—how zoey writhed, how her fingers clawed at the blanket bunched beneath her, how her lip trembled as she tried to hold back the next moan.

but it wasn’t enough.

zoey’s hips kept rocking forward, chasing more—deeper, fuller, needier. her eyes cracked open, glassy and pleading, and when rumi met them, she felt it.

the bond pulsed—zoey’s need, sharp and aching.

she wanted more.

zoey whimpered, nodding fast, her breath catching in her throat. she couldn’t even find words—only raw need burned behind her eyes. her body arched in silent plea, thighs falling open in surrender, inviting, begging.

but Rumi didn’t vote.

instead, she kissed the corner of zoey’s mouth, then her jaw, her voice a whisper laced with control. “words, zo. ask for what you want. don’t you want me to tell mira that you learned your lesson?

she let out a broken sound, head falling back against the couch, her chest heaving. it was too much—the heat, the tension, the slick ache low in her belly that pulsed with every heartbeat.

“i—i want…” she gasped, voice quivering. Her fingers gripped the blanket like a lifeline. “rumi, please—i need your fingers inside me. i want you to fill me.”

there it was—her truth, her plea. it left her lips like a confession.

rumi’s expression softened and sharpened all at once. The bond flared with a rush of satisfaction and desire as rumi leaned in, her nose brushing zoey’s cheek. “good girl.”

and then—her hand slid lower.

fingers gliding through slick heat, parting her gently before one slipped inside again, slow and unhurried.

zoey cried out softly, hips twitching, thighs trembling. rumi curled her finger just right, and then added another, and Zoey gasped—her whole body responding like a struck chord.

her walls were sensitive around rumi's fingers, raw and trembling, like an ulcer in the mouth—untouched for days until something grazed it just right. that jarring, exposed sting, the kind that made your breath hitch but felt impossible to leave alone.

it ached in that strange, addictive way—like she needed it, like the weird sensation itself was a form of relief.

every slow curl of rumi’s fingers lit up her nerves like a struck match. It was electric—hypersensitive, burning. even the air brushing across her damp thighs felt unbearable, like it could flay her open.

she was trembling, mouth parted, breath catching in soft, broken stutters.

her skin prickled with heat, lashes fluttering shut as her hips rolled helplessly toward rumi's hand.

it was just right—sharp pleasure and aching need flooding her all at once, every inch of her crying out for more, deeper, harder.

the way rumi’s fingers moved inside her—slow, deep, curling with practiced precision—drove her wild.

every motion struck something devastatingly sweet and sharp inside her, and with the ache of her period already making her raw, it was like being split open at the seams.

rumi leaned in, pressing kisses along zoey’s cheek, her neck, the curve of her shoulder. “you’re doing so good, zo,” she whispered, her voice a low hush between them. “you’re so perfect, so perfect.”

zoey sobbed out a sound—half a moan, half a plea. Her hips rocked without rhythm now, chasing the rising wave she felt building in her gut.

“ru—rumi, I—”

“i know, baby,” rumi murmured, shifting slightly so she could press her palm snugly against zoey’s clit as her fingers worked deeper. “i know you’re close.”

zoey’s head lolled back, mouth parted, eyes glassy and heavy-lidded. “don’t stop,” she begged, almost delirious. “please don’t stop—please—”

“i’m right here.”

rumi’s lips grazed her ear, and zoey shattered.

her body went rigid, thighs clamping around Rumi’s hand as the orgasm tore through her, wave after wave of tight, clenching bliss that stole her breath and left her reeling.

the bond lit up with the force of it—her pleasure bursting outward like a signal flare, flooding rumi—and possibly mira—with the echo of it.

zoey’s cries were soft but broken, little whimpers tumbling from her lips as she rode it out, eyes squeezed shut. her body trembled with the aftershocks, too sensitive, too full, too much.

and rumi stayed close, fingers softly thrusting to help zoey ride the waves out, before eventually pulling back. she grabbed one of the napkins from the table, carefully wiping her fingers clean before reaching out and touching zoey’s cheek again.

“you okay?” she asked softly, brushing her thumb along her flushed skin.

zoey blinked up at her, dazed and warm, lips twitching into a lazy smile. “i didn’t realize how much I needed that.” she whispered.

rumi smiled, something gentle and affectionate flickering across her face. “yeah? is that why you were being a brat to mira?” she teased, voice low and soothing as her fingers loose hairs from zoey’s damp forehead.

zoey let out a soft laugh, barely a breath. “I wasn’t even—whatever. maybe, I don’t know,” she mumbled, eyes fluttering as the tension in her body began to melt. “I just… wanted my Dr. Peppers!”

rumi huffed a quiet laugh, leaning in to press a kiss to zoey’s cheek. “you are so cute,” she whispered, tone full of warmth, fondness, the kind she only reserved for moments like this.

zoey hummed, her fingers brushing along Rumi’s arm as she blinked up at her through lazy, half-lidded eyes. “you love it.”

“perchance,” rumi teased, barely above a whisper.

“you can’t just say perchance,” zoey responded, both girls breaking out into a soft laughter before a long pause came between them, soft and slow, their breathing synced.

rumi eventually reached for another napkin from the coffee table and leaned down again, her voice gentle. “let me help you clean up, okay?”

zoey nodded, a little shy now as she adjusted.

rumi dabbed around her thighs and between them with practiced tenderness, making sure not to rush, not to overwhelm.

“you okay?” rumi murmured, glancing up briefly.

“mmhm.” zoey’s voice was quiet and warm. “this is nice.”

rumi chuckled softly. “dont get used to it. mira's gonna kill you.”

zoey smiled sleepily, her fingers reaching to twine with Rumi’s as she laid back. “i’ll fight her.”

“oh, will you?” rumi leaned forward, brushing her lips across Zoey’s knuckles. “i’d love to see how that ends.”

with zoey cleaned and the napkins tossed, rumi helped her back into fresh panties, new tampon, and a clean pair of sleep shorts, then settled beside her again under the blanket. zoey curled into her instinctively, cheek against Rumi’s chest.

“thank you,” she whispered.

rumi rested her chin atop zoey’s head, arms wrapping around her tightly. “you’re welcome, brat.”

this was written quickly and without thought so if there are any errors, please let me know. enjoy! also will u guys interact with my drabbles of them I have so many in drafts

© kandized on Tumblr and kodzynken on ao3 ; do not copy translate or feed my work into ai without my permission.

[obscure-entity]

your shading is AMAZING specially when its conveying organic forms..... do you have any tips for people who dont know wrf going on (with shading)

ok so HI. hi. my old tutorial pisses me off so i will make a new one

i made a guy whose sole purpose is to be shaded so dont worry he likes it. and his name. his name will be mr. Boob. mr boob does not have to be blue

theres probably way better explanations of how to do it but unfortunately trying to "emulate" shading does ask you to somewhat understand ur character in a 3d way. like what would the 2d shape be if you "sliced" it? mr boob is made of so many circles. his tail also does a kind of weird perspective foreshortening thing because its pointing at you. is this being conveyed

you obviuously dont have to draw a horrendous grid on your characters skin to do this . BUT it helps you put down (or at least envision) the lines of the form shading :

dont worry about cast shadows or the shading color because this is FORM SHADOW time only. think about what surfaces of the character are obviously facing away from the light source and put down the "separation line" of the shading based on that. thr most important thing is that youre trying to separate light from dark

im going to pick the first one for cast shadows bc it will be the most obvious to me

ok so. his ears and snout are blocking other surfaces of his body from the light, which means a shadow is cast!!!! bam. i saw someone describe cast shadows as what the light's pov "can't see." his entire body is putting down a cast shadow on the ground too

im impatient so i blended the form shadows now. its usually the easiest to just NOT blend cast shadows as a way of conveying that they are still cast shadows. but you can still blend them if you want to show "distance" between the obstruction and the surface its blocking. but its just a way of saying form and cast shadows should not be treated the same even if their softness coincides

im going to lump reflection and ambient light together because theyre like. similar. reflections dont just happen in mirrors

since the sky is blue, making the ambient lighting, i tinged mr. boobs existing shadow to be a bit blue. (*this is kind of important because it can help you decide a shading color, which should USUALLY be based on the environment) (unless your character is just in the transparent void then it doesnt matter)

since the ground is pink, i made pink light bounce off of him. pointed and labelled. i dont rlly know how to go more in depth than that

contact shadows are literally shadows formed from direct-touching contact. very little light can reach in there, even from how reflections disperse, which means youre free to use the darkest color available (black). in this case mr. boob is making contact with the floor. because he is sitting on the floor.

i touched him up a bit and wow!!!!!!!!!! look at mr. boob!!! he is so beautifully sculpted.

and one more thing

thats right. i made mr boob PINK. hes fucking ruined now. just kidding i would never say that to him

what im trying to convey here (its the easiest with really light colors) is a transitional color. this can also show subsurface scattering depending on how you use it which is fun to look at. the mistake i made on my last tutorial was "Just pick a warm saturated color!" which is really wrong in examples like Blue mr boob. because it would be weird to use a warm color to transition from blue to blue.

if you have a character that isn't bright enough then obviously the shadows wont be as visible. its BEST to bring more attention to highlights and reflections to reveal the form a bit. they play the biggest role with darker colors

thats all i can think of. fun things to look up:

structuralization + contour lines + foreshortening etc. 3d lingo

form shadows

cast shadows

ambient light

contact shadows

subsurface scattering

im also just speaking out of my ass otherwise. i didnt look up any of these terms until the end now im inferring and hoping i got them right

and remember every time you shade mr boob will be rooting for you

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

born to die - m. murdock

a/n: IM NOT DEAD i am very busy with finals but this has been rattling around the old noggin for a while now. i took a lot of inspiration from @ellephlox 's fic strawberry rhubarb which i 100% reccomend bc its better than most fics including this one! hope you enjoy! as always reblogs and comments are always appreciated! <3 warnings: oh boy. torture (cutting, burning) some sexually suggestive talk (nothing happens but it's not consensual) readers dad abused her, nightmares, lots of major character death (but not permeant) ANGST!!! but with a happy ending! kidnapping, medical stuff, cursing, and if i missed anything, let me know! word count: 4.8k summary: as matt murdock's wife, your life is rather full of surprises. getting kidnapped by wilson fisk takes the cake as the worst one. pairing: matt murdock x wife!reader now playing: born to die - lana del rey "choose your last words, this is the last time/'cause you and i, we were born to die"

You would think after patching him up too many times to count, five years without him, and countless sleepless nights worrying if he was alive, you would think you’d be used to Matt Murdock and his world of surprises.

And then you get kidnapped, so maybe you’re not so immune to surprises.

It’s really such a shame too, because you’re storming out of the apartment, too angry to take notice of your surroundings.

Silly, foolish, ditzy you.

Because it isn’t like Matt hasn’t told you time and time again that you need to be careful, especially when you go out alone at night. But he’s so angry that he doesn’t even think about the potential dangers of Hell’s Kitchen at three a.m. when Daredevil has been tucked away for the night and Matt Murdock comes back out to play.

He’s been taking more and more patrols because with Fisk being out of prison he can’t help but be constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop.

How silly he was to think that maybe he could have it all—A successful law firm, good friends and a loving wife.

Silly, foolish, ditzy Matt.

But after a week of nonstop patrols, you’re both fed up and tired, and above all, you’re yearning for each other. Neither of you allow yourselves to be totally happy all the time. It would just make everything too easy.

So, after yelling at each other over, what? Patrols? Cases? Burnt dinners? You’re freezing on the streets, and you get about five blocks before you stop and rub your eyes.

This is dumb, you rationalize. Of course, you’re both stressed out and tired, but you’ve gotten through rougher times before, and you both made an oath. To each other, in front of his God, to love each other no matter what.

You realize you left your wedding ring on the table, the ghost of the metal around your finger haunting you. You were dumb for leaving and Matt was dumb for telling you to go. You’re made for each other.

You turn around to go back to your shared apartment, and then, someone grabs you from behind. Your first instinct is to yell for your husband, but you don’t get the chance to before you’re knocked out, by what you can only guess to be a gun or maybe a large fist.

• • •

You wake up in this dingy room, the lighting not suitable for much of anything except to make you afraid. The set up is almost comical and in a fucked up away, stereotypical for a kidnapping. You’re tied up to a chair, and the lights shine only bright enough so you can see shadows and rats scurrying along.

The air is this weird musk of salt and earth, and you realize you’re near the docks, and that’s about all you know about your current location.

Your head is still pounding from whatever it was you were hit with, but you can see another chair a few feet from you and a wooden table with various weapons laying on it. You don’t feel good about this one. Also on the table is an old school record player. You have no idea what the intention is with it.

You try to keep your cool, knowing that wherever you wander, your husband will not be very far off. That whatever is happening, he will be coming to find you no matter how upset he is for whatever it was you were fighting about earlier.

And then, out of the shadows, there he is. 

But he’s too big to be Matt, and he has a man standing next to him.

Frank, maybe?

And then you realize who this man is.

He’s Wilson Fisk, the kingpin who has done nothing but torture and kill people, shoving it in Matt’s face for years. Matt only met you after Fisk was put back in prison, and you know at some point in the five-year blip without Matt, he had escaped prison.

So, this is the first time you’ve had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Fisk. When he meets your eye, you do nothing but stare.

“Good evening, Mrs. Murdock. It’s a shame we must meet under these circumstances.” He tells you, taking a seat in front of you. His henchman stands behind the chair.

“It’s regretful to say the least.” You tell him, not intending to make any more of an enemy out of him than Matt already has, not right now.

“I wanted to congratulate you on your wedding. I remember my own, it was a rather special day.”

You know that was the day Matt took him down. The night that he, Karen and Foggy took him down.

“I’ve heard stories. It seemed like a lovely day.”

“You’re a much more gracious guest than your counterpart.”

“Well, I’m sure people say similar things about you and yours.”

He seems to consider this for a moment before nodding.

“You’re probably right about that, Mrs. Murdock. I wanted to tell you I’m terribly sorry these are the circumstances in which we are finally introduced. But it seems Mr. Murdock has been interested in finding out more about my endeavors. And you see, we simply cannot have that. I made a promise not to hurt Miss Page or Mr. Nelson but it seems you were not included in that deal.” Of course not, it had been a long time before you showed up. “So, you’re how we’re going to send Mr. Murdock a message.”

Huh.

So, this is how you die.

Well, you might as well go out with a bang.

“You see, Mrs. Murdock, When I was a boy—”

“I’m going to stop you, Mr. Fisk, because your sob story is rather dull. I know who you are. You were beaten by your father, just like I was. The difference is that I don’t use that as an excuse to murder my way to the top of the food chain. And you can torture me, assault me, whatever you feel you need to do. But if you think for a second that I’ll forget who’s coming to stop you, you are sorely mistaken. And if you think he’ll ever stop trying to find me, you do not know my husband very well.”

Fisk stares at you for a while, his gaze hardening into a glare.

“You’re right. You do know who I am. Because we’re rather similar.” He stands up and nods to the man nearby. “If Murdock can hear her far from here, make sure he hears her screaming.”

Then Wilson Fisk walks away, and you are left with the sickening gaze of a man who has no good intentions.

 The man goes to the record player and starts to play a song you recognize quickly as “Fly Me To The Moon” by Frank Sinatra. As he does this, he speaks,

“Hello, Mrs. Murdock. I’m John.” You stay quiet, and he just enjoys the song.

He picks up a knife from the table and goes to you, this grin on his face that makes you sick.

But you remember a trick from not only your childhood, but also from Frank who told you the key to remaining strong under torture—Distraction.

You stare straight ahead, trying not to mind as the man runs the knife over your skin. You think about Matt. You imagine him in his wedding suit, the smile he had on as you approached him down that aisle. You think about when he asked you to marry him, and—

A sharp pain slashes down your arm, cutting open the shirt you’re wearing. You yell in pain, before moving in to try and take deep breaths.

You can do this. Matt will be here soon.

You continue to breathe through the anxiety and the pain, trying not to think too hard about when John hums along to Sinatra’s voice, guiding his knife around your skin. Another cut finds itself on your shoulder.

This goes on for a while, with the classic song looping over and over again. John never seems to tire of it, no matter how badly you will for it to end. As the song ends in one particularly good loop, John hits your face hard, and your nose starts bleeding.

You try to think of Matt’s voice. You don’t listen to John’s torments, knowing it will only egg him on further. You just want him to burn at that point.

By the end of… Countless Frank Sinatra serenades, you have cuts littered around your body, dry blood on your face from your nose and tears running down your face. When he’s eventually done, two men cut you out from the chair and drag you along to a smaller, darker room. You are left in there with a small meal, and you just huddle against a corner, nearest a barred window out of your reach.

And then, you begin to speak for the first time since you saw Fisk.

“Matt,” You whisper, “I’m by the docks.” You tell him, not sure if he can even hear you. “Please, I’m sorry for everything, please just come find me..” You mumble, too tired and aching to try and do more.

• • •

The next day, or what you presume to be the next day since you have no way to tell how much time has passed, you’re woken up by a loud banging on the door of your.. cell..?

The same two men enter and drag you back to the room, where John waits for you.

“How are you feeling today, Mrs. Murdock?” He asks.

You glare.

“Fuck you.”

He laughs and shakes his head.

“What happened to the polite young woman Mr. Fisk and I met yesterday?”

You’re filled with unprecedented anger.

“I said, Fuck you!”

He wastes no time, grabbing a lighter off the table and starting the record player again. Once more, Frank Sinatra’s voice fills the room, and you’re pretty sure once you’re done with John, and then Fisk, you’ll bring Sinatra back from the dead just to kill him again.

You’ve never really been a violent person, but you suspect that it lives in the worst parts of you, just as it did with your own father. You’re much better at keeping it all at bay. Besides, it does you no good to be violent while you have Matt. He’s plenty angry for the both of you.

Oh, Matt..

This is how time passes for you. While John tortures you, burning you or carving into your skin, you think about how great it will be to choke the life out of the singer… And you think about Matt. When you’re in your dark little room, you talk to him. Even if he can’t hear you, you must hope that he’s looking for you.

• • •

Days pass. How long have you been here?

One night, you have the following dream:

It starts out as a memory. A memory of you and Matt. You’re lying in bed with him, and the sunlight is hitting his face just right. You love this memory, it’s one you recall often. He just has this angelic look to him.

Yeah, most people who encounter him, especially at night, meet the devil. But occasionally, you get glimpses of the angel you know he is. He’s sleeping, and you think in this state, he is the most relaxed you’ll ever see him.

Then, before your eyes, the dream shifts and you’re in this black void, on the ground.

Foggy, Karen, Frank, and Matt stand around you. You run to Matt but hit a clear shield keeping him from you. You bang on the glass, well, maybe it’s glass, you don’t know. You try to scream, but your voice never reaches your ears. You begin to look around, looking for a way out.

An eerie version of ‘Fly Me To The Moon’ plays as you glance over to Foggy and watch in horror as his body begins to turn to ash, just like Matt and Karen did when they were blipped. You scream, banging against the shield, but your screams are silent.

You glance back and see the same thing happening to Frank. No, no, no! It was never supposed to happen this way! Frank and Foggy, they lived! They got their time! They don’t die like this!

And then Karen starts too. You start sobbing, not wanting her to go. You had missed her so much, and you only just got her back. But soon enough, she’s gone too, and you’re left in front of your husband.

His hand comes up to rest on the forcefield and he frowns softly.

He says your name gently, and then adds, “You know it couldn’t last forever, right?”

And then just as quickly as before, he is gone again. You remain there in that void, sobbing and screaming though no noise reaches you. This can’t be it! You just got him back, you needed him! You couldn’t take being alone for another five years… Or more…

The dream transforms and you’re in this grand ballroom. People are dancing elegantly and you’re in this.. obnoxious ball gown. But across the room, you can see Matt. He’s dressed in an all-black suit, with a red masquerade mask covering his face. The mask has little red devil horns on it.

Now, the orchestra plays their rendition of Sinatra’s romantic classic. And you step towards Matt, attempting to make your way towards him, only to be met with a masked man, beginning to twirl you around.

You jump from man to man, until eventually, you’re dancing with a man in an all-white suit, a man you quickly recognize as Fisk. No matter how hard you try to escape his grasp, he holds on tighter. The two of you stop dancing now, amid the crowd of moving bodies.

Fisk grabs your chin and tilts it in Matt’s direction, just in time for you to see him bowing to another woman, kissing the back of her hand. Your eyes widen and you think, this can’t be real.

“When I kill you,” Fisk says, “He’ll move on. You’re easily replaceable, Mrs. Murdock.”

And then, in an instant, the woman with Matt pulls out a dagger and plunges it deeply into his abdomen. It’s then that the other dancers, besides you, Fisk, Matt, and this mystery woman, disappear. Matt turns to you and falls to his knees, clutching his stomach.

He tries to crawl to you, blood seeping onto his hands and the beautiful ballroom floor. He yells your name, and the woman stabs him again from behind, and you watch as your husband dies. You hear him screaming, hear him yelling your name. But Wilson Fisk keeps you in place. You can do nothing but watch as Matt Murdock meets his end again, unable to save him. You start to scream, thrashing against Fisk, ready to claw your way to Matt.

You wake up screaming, the nightmare haunting you. A guard bangs on your door, yelling at you to keep it down.

It was just a nightmare, you tell yourself. Maybe Matt heard your screams.

Maybe he’s already dead.

You force yourself not to listen to the voice in your head that says that.

• • •

One day, Fisk visits again, only this time, He’s covered in blood. That damn song is still playing.

You just stare. They have long since stopped tying you up, recognizing that you no longer have the energy to try and fight back.  He has this sick grin on his face.

“Good evening, Mrs. Murdock.” You say nothing. “Have you been enjoying your stay with us?”

You glare.

“I hope Matt kills you when he gets here, because it will be a lot less painful for you if he does it instead of me.”

Mr. Fisk just laughs at this and tosses something at your feet. You get down off the chair to see what it is.

Your face goes pale with realization. You pick it up and slip it on your thumb, with it being too big for your other fingers. Matt’s wedding ring. You know it’s his, it has your name engraved in braille on the inside. How did he get this?

As if reading your mind, Fisk speaks again. “I took it off his body after I killed him.”

Your head shoots up to him. What did he say?

“No.” You deny. “Fuck off, I don’t—I don’t believe you.”

“Your husband is dead, Mrs. Murdock. I killed him with my bare hands because he was stupid enough to come after you. Your friends will mourn you and Matt Murdock for a while, and the city will come to the realization that Daredevil did nothing but harm. I win, Mrs. Murdock.”

You feel tears start to fill your eyes, and you realize, no. He hasn’t won because you’re still alive.

Maybe not for long, but you are.

You gather the rest of your energy and leap up, lunging at the large man covered in the man you love’s blood. And there’s a part of you that gets it. Okay, universe, you win. Most people don’t get a second chance like the two of you did. And now he’s dead, and soon you will be too. You can at least try to kill Fisk.

But you barely get a scratch in, yelling and screaming obscenities at him, as John grabs your arms from behind pulling you away. Fisk laughs and shakes his head again.

“It’s been lovely knowing you, Mrs. Murdock. I’m sorry you’ll have to die, you had so much potential. John, when you’re done doing whatever you’d like to her, kill her.” You hear him say it, but you’re blinded by rage, by grief.

John laughs behind you and forces you back into the chair, tying you back up once more. He looks at you, enraged and grief stricken, and just shakes his head.

“You and I are going to have a lot of fun.”

He leaves for a few minutes, and you realize this is the first time you’ve been left alone in this room. You tug at the knots and realize that while John is a gifted torturer, he’s not much of a knot tier.

So you manage to wiggle out of the rope, approaching the table in front of you. You don’t have much time. Okay, maybe you won’t be able to kill Fisk, but John will do. You take a golf club off the table in front of you and turn to the record player.

You begin to smash the thing in, angrily cursing at it as Frank Sinatra’s voice fades off into nothing. When the song ends, the lights turn off. And then, red flood lights turn on in their place.

A back up generator. Lovely. You think that your smashing of the record player couldn’t possibly make the whole building’s power go off, but you don’t really care at that moment.

You’re tired. You won’t make it far, but you need to try. You grasp the club and open the door, being greeted with a man you don’t recognize. You smack him in the face with the club hard enough for him to fall to the ground.

The red lighting adds an eerie tone to the hallways as you creep around, concussing various henchmen that Fisk has working for him. You don’t mean to kill these ones, only John.

But you’re running out of stamina, peeking around corners. And that’s when you see him. John is just standing there like he knows you’re there.

“Come out to play, Mrs. Murdock?” He calls, approaching the corner where you are waiting on the other side.

You focus on his footsteps, taking a swing around the corner when you know he’s close enough. You hear a sharp crack! As he falls, and you can’t see the blood in this lighting. Good. You begin to hit his head in, sobs mixing with yelling. You hate him. You want him to die before you’re killed.

But you don’t get the pleasure, because a pair of arms are pulling you off him, and you begin yelling.

“No!” You yelp. “No, Fuck you! Let go of me! Stop!” You think it’s another one of his goons, and you just want to be able to finish the job before you die. The figure forces you to drop the club. “Please, stop, don’t hurt me—”

But he’s saying your name and turning you around to see him. You know that voice.

“Sweetheart, hey, it’s just me—” He pants, his hands going to your cheeks. “It’s me, It’s just me. I’ve got you.”

And you can’t believe your eyes.

“Matt..?” You whimper, not able to believe it. “No, you’re dead, this has to be—”

And then, Matt does something he wouldn’t do for anyone who wasn’t his wife. He pulls off his helmet so you can see his face. Oh.

“I’m right here. I’ve got you.” He says softly, his thumb gently rubbing against your skin.

That’s when you start to sob, falling against him, no energy left to carry yourself. His arms wrap around you, and you say it again.

“He told me you were dead..”

“I know.. I’m sorry, I don’t know how he got my ring but we’ve gotta get you out of here.” He tells you.

You’re so tired. You’re slumping against him as you try to walk, the warmth radiating off his body just drawing you to sleep.

The last thing you hear before you fall asleep is Matt’s voice, begging you to stay awake.

• • •

You see flashes. Your parents, your dad. Nightmares of Fisk killing Karen, Foggy, Frank, and worst of all, Matt. You see John’s sickening grin on the body of spiders, and you’re chased by his cruel laughter.

But the dreams are filmier compared to what’s happening around you. You know Claire shows up at some point, and you’re thankful to her. Karen sits next to you sometimes, petting your hair, or sometimes it’s Foggy, talking your ear off.

You have fever dreams of Frank in full military gear, tormenting you.

“Not so tough now, huh, girl?” He teases. “You really thought you’d kill the big bad wolf? Solve all your boyfriend’s problems?”  

You say to him, “Husband, He’s my husband.”

• • •

Even in your dreams, where you were slashed and burned aches, and you long for the pain to end.

You wake up only once throughout these dreams, and it’s when Karen is playing music to try and calm you from your insistent nightmares.

Only one song snaps you out of it, and you hear it clear as day.

‘Fly me to the moon,” Sinatra sings, “Let me play among the stars,’

He only gets through a few more lines before you’re sitting up on the couch, screaming.

“No! Stop, please!” You cry, and in an instant, Matt’s arms are around you. “Matt, please, don’t let him hurt me, please! Please don’t die, don’t let him keep hurting me!” You beg, in a hazed, frenzied state.

“I’ve got you, No one’s going to hurt you..”

Karen turns off the music somewhere deep in the apartment.

“No..” You begin to grow tired in his arms again. “Matty, please.. You can’t die, please..” You whimper out, continuing to mumble out pleads as you fall back into your weird dream state.

• • •

You really wake up two days later. Matt’s hand is clasped over yours, and he’s just.. Sitting on the floor next to the couch, praying into your clasped hands.

Praying for what, you don’t know.

Your body aches. But something in you tells you you’re safe.

“Matt…?” You whisper gently, and his head shoots up.

“Hey..” He says softly, one hand leaving yours, coming up to brush your hair out of your face. “There she is..”

“You’re alive..”

He seems a little concerned you still had some doubts about this.

“I am. Fisk lied to you.. He never even touched me.” You nod.

“Did I kill him? The man you found me..”

“No. He’s just in a coma, I checked. He’ll be brought to justice.”

“I only wanted him dead when I thought you were too..” Because really, you would have nothing if Matt wasn’t there. Nothing to live for. When he was blipped away, you had the hardest time readjusting to life. Now you know if he died again, you’d probably go off the rails.

No love story is saved more than once. You used up all your luck. Now it will be doomed if he’s ever killed again.

“I know.” He said gently.

“How long have I been out? How long was I in there?”

“A week, and then you were out for four days here. They got you good, baby..” He says gently. “I’m sorry I didn’t find you earlier.”

You frown softly.

“You did find me though. That’s all that really matters anymore.” You know you’ll be nursing scars for a long time. Physical or not.

“Still..” He said gently, and he brings your hand up to kiss it gently. “And I’m sorry I told you to leave that night. I was just upset, but this past week and half.. I feel like I’ve been going crazy without you. No matter how mad at you I am, I never want to spend another night without holding you. Knowing that you could have been…” His voice breaks, and he just sighs, taking a moment to lean his head on your hand. “I love you, so much.” He kisses your palm again.

How are you so tired again? All you’ve done is talk to him, but it feels like you just ran a marathon.

“I love you. It’s why I married you. Because you and I, we were always meant to be with each other. No matter what.”

He smiles weakly and reaches over to the coffee table to grab something. He slips it on your finger and for the first time in over a week, your wedding ring is back where it belongs. You see Matt is wearing his. Your Matt. Your husband. The only one you were ever meant to be with.

“Did Claire patch me up? I remember her being here..” He nods softly.

“Yeah, we.. we really owe her one. She was a huge help..”

“Karen and Foggy were here… And Frank?”

“No, no, Frank’s still in Illinois, I think?” You nod softly. “You were mumbling to him, though. I heard you… you were telling him you had a husband.”

You would laugh if it didn’t hurt.

“He called you my boyfriend. I had to correct him.” You grin.

“That’s my girl.” He hums. Matt gently lifts you so you can sit up and drink some water. Then, he climbs onto the couch and brings you close. His arms wrap around your freshly wounded skin and you have a rare moment of gratefulness for his blindness.

You sit in silence for a while.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks gently.

You think about it all. The torture, the cuts, burns, the small room. Fisk’s laughter, John’s grin. But something sticks out to you.

“Fisk said I was just like him.”

“What?”

“We.. We grew up similar, Matt, I mean.. What if he’s right? What if the only thing separating him and I is one bad move?”

Your husband frowns and shakes his head.

“Sweetheart, you are the.. the most amazing person I’ve ever met. You’re the complete antithesis of Wilson Fisk. Yeah, you grew up like him, but you’re living proof that you don’t have to go down the path he did just because of his background. You and I both know that there will never be a world where you end up like him. Especially not with me.”

You find comfort with his words. Not only did you make every choice not to be like Fisk, but you must’ve also made all the right decisions if in the end, you ended up with Matt. Oh, it won’t be easy, you know that for sure. You’ll never be able to listen to Frank Sinatra, and your upcoming nights are filled with nightmares and hauntings.

But one day you’ll be okay. One day You’ll be able to sit in the silence without thinking about it. One day you’ll get the image of dead Matt out of your head. You’ve spent many nights wondering about who will go first, you or him.

And then you realize the best-case scenario is that the two of you die at the same time, never living another moment without each other.

How would there ever be a world where you and your husband weren’t with each other, even just for a moment?

[locketsvault]

「 JEALOUSLY IS A GREEN BUG 」

pairing: ranpo edogawa x gender neutral reader

tags: gender neutral reader, established relationship, jealousy senario, nsfw ending, they/them pronouns used, first person

warnings: the ending isn’t too explicit but it is nsfw, not proof read

request: May I request jealousy(not toxic ofc) hcs for bsd men(specifically ranpo), gn reader of course, can be both sfw and nsfw! scenario can be reader speaking to someone for too long or someone flirts with reader in front of them (original request found here.)

word count: 867

a/n: I decided to do a scenario with just ranpo, since I wouldn’t mind making this a mini series later on. It may also be be ooc bc I struggle writing dialogue for him.

Ranpo has never been one to enjoy official work style parties. The only exception is the ones the ada throw, but it’s a lot more like a family than buisness. Plus, he gets all his sweets. But dressing up nice and putting on a fake smile to guilt trip people into whatever you need? Not him. He’s also became aware that he’s just not the kind of person to have at events like that. The only exception is for you.

You and a co worker got promoted and there was an official event for it. You had asked your boyfriend to come to the event with you. And knowing it meant a lot to you, he agreed. While usually he’s very stubborn, when it comes to you he’s willing to push himself a bit and give in.

He warned you that he had a case to work on and would come by a little late, but you didn’t mind. Before you started dating you both communicated that he may get pulled away when you need him, and you reassured that it would be okay. It was his job, and he saved people after all. So you two arrived separately.

It didn’t take him long at all to finish the case, and thirty minutes after you got to the building he showed up. He made his way immediately over to where he believed you’d be, not really greeting anyone else. Those who’s worked with you for a while was. It surprised at all, and knew better than trying to talk to him.

When he finally found you, you were talking to a co worker, one he didn’t recognize. Upon closer inspection the co worker seemed to be flirting with you. You obviously didn’t seem amused, but you were trying to be polite. That was the difference between you two. He could care less about hurting others feelings. But you always did.

He stood by watching amused, albeit a bit jealous. He was curious what you’d do to stop him. And he trusted you enough to handle it yourself. But when you tried to excuse yourself, and the co worker grabbed your arm, his amusement was snuffed out immediately. A flash of discomfort washed over you, added on by the fact a strange man was touching you, he was ready to step in and tear him to shreds.

Other co workers who saw what happened and watched Ranpo walk up to you two knew trouble was about to start, but some of them were ready for the show. They were aware of how unhinged he could be. And for many, this was the first time they saw his eyes open, glued to your form.

“I’m sorry I’m late dearest, another idiot thought he could get away with murder.” He said with a sickeningly sweet smile. “You, I don’t know who you are, and I don’t care. It’s obvious they’re not interested, so why do you think you have the right to touch them?”

As he spoke he wrapped his arm around your waist, watching with his bright green eyes as the man turned red and immediately let you go. He started stammering out apologies, but Ranpo attention quickly left him once he let go. He was calm enough to know you didn’t like it when he made scenes at your work. Huffing, his arm moved from your waist to your hand, dragging you off to an area no one else was at.

He pinned you to the wall, whines escaping his lips as he nuzzled his face into your neck. You couldn’t help but gasp, not expecting the action, despite how clingy he can be. His voice returned to its usual playful tone as he whined out “why does everyone constantly try to take you from me?”

He nipped your neck a few times before sighing and just resting your head in your neck, his hands resting on the wall next to your torso. You brought a hand up, raking it through his hair.

“Are you… jealous?” You asked, slightly amused at his actions. He was trying not to mark you right now, you could tell.

“So what if I am? Every time I go out with you people hit on you! And then they try to take you from me. I don’t like it.” He whined out, pulling away to glare at you, as if the question was obvious, as if you were trying to tease him.

You knew because of his past jealousy was something he struggled with, despite how much he may try to hide it. He handled it well honestly, he never accused you of anything, never got mad at you for what others try to do, never tried to control you. But you could see it in his eyes.

You cooed, cupping his cheek and bringing your lips close to his. “You have nothing to be jealous over, I’m yours, only yours.”

He didn’t respond, instead pulling your head closer to kiss you, a hint of desperation in the pressure of the kiss. You could tell, you both needed to leave. Your jealous baby needed taking care of. And you were happy to comply.

main hub ✦ masterlist ✦ to do list

[stellar-skyy]

COURT GOSSIP — Furina x reader.

i. SUMMARY: Fontaine has a lot to say about Furina's lover. (Now with a part two!) ii. CONTENT WARNINGS: Very very slight spoilers for the 4.2 archon quest, brief use of pet names (darling). iii. NOTES: Angst, reader doesn't actually make an appearance but they are talked about throughout, gn!reader, they/them pronouns used, 2.1k words. iv. A/N: Angst bc i lost the 50/50. This probably isn't as good as I wanted it to be, but I'm tired and I was sick of rewriting things.

They called the relationship a lot of things. Scandalous, shocking, shameless. Shameless wasn’t the right word. Furina had plenty shame, but the taste of love had left her too excited to worry about repercussions. Careless, was more accurate.

If she had more care, she would be home by then, curled around her lover, laying with her ear pressed to their chest so she could hear their heartbeat. She wouldn’t be pacing back and forth and wearing grooves into Neuvillette’s office’s carpet.

“It is going to be alright, Lady Furina. Sit down.” Neuvillette said calmly. He was sitting still, hands folded in his lap, and to the ordinary eye he looked perfectly at ease. But Furina hadn’t spent five centuries with him without learning his mannerisms. The stiffness in his shoulders, the twitch of his eyebrow, the way his words sounded a touch too sharp; it was obvious he was just as concerned as she was.

“It’s not! Do you know what they’re saying?” Furina hissed. She threw the newspaper across his desk, letting it land in front of him with a smack. The photo of the two of them—her arms wrapped around their neck, while they kissed her cheek—took up almost the entire page, only broken up by the title.

Exclusive: Who is Lady Furina’s secret paramour?

“I must say, this is quite a poorly titled article.” Neuvillette frowned, looking closer. “The word ‘paramour’ is archaic by itself, but more than that it already implies a scandalous relationship. The word ‘secret’ is superfluous.”

“That’s not the point!” Furina practically wailed. “Look at what they’re saying!”

“Hmm… ‘Who is this mystery partner, and how did they catch the attention of the Archon herself? Is this unknown lover strategically targeting Lady Furina to attempt to obscure the justice of Fontaine?’ Ah, I see. They believe your partner to be seeking you out to gain influence of the court system.”

“How dare they! To think they would stoop to such a level to accuse my—”

“It is alright. I have already scheduled an official announcement to acknowledge the concerns and quell the rumours.”

“It’s not only that! The people are losing their respect.”

“…I am afraid I do not understand.”

“For me! They—” Furina halted. “I—I heard them today. They think of me as just some love-stricken girl. Archons above—” Neuvillette chose not to point out that she herself was an archon. “I couldn’t stand it...”

⋆ ✩ ｡ ° ✩ ° ｡ ✩ ⋆

It had been a pleasant morning; so pleasant that once Furina had detangled herself from her partner’s arms, she decided to take a walk.

As she strolled through the streets, the sounds of the city beginning its day and the singing of birds mingled together in a strangely beautiful symphony. They competed for the attention of whoever happened to be listening, with songbirds chirping and crooning from the tops of buildings, directly above the sounds of vendors and other salespersons trying to sell their products.

“Fresh lavender melons, straight from Inazuma!” A fruit-seller called, holding a basket filled with bright purple fruits.

Ah, Lavender Melons. They were a fairly new sight in Fontaine, only appearing after trade with Inazuma was reestablished. Perhaps she should purchase a bunch.

“Extra, extra!” a young newsboy yelled out, waving a newspaper above his head. “Read all about the latest Fontaine news, from the Fontaine Gazette! Hear about the case that divided the Chief Justice and Lady Furina!”

The newspapers were always embellished, but the Fontaine Gazette was a particularly egregious example. Not a single word in that paper was without exaggeration. Though, it was entertaining at times to look over the stories and laugh about the incredulity of it all.

She strolled over to listen to the boy’s calls, idly looking past the rows of newspapers and magazines. She withdrew one from the stand, a gaudy looking magazine with bright red headlines screaming in her face.  

The Spina di Rosula in shambles! it shrieked. Such a crude form of entertainment, the misery of others. It was good Fontaine had enough reputable newspapers to drown out the crows and calls of garbage like that.

“Extra, extra! Lady Furina has a secret lover? Read all about it here!”

In a second, the magazine in Furina’s hands slipped onto the ground, and she felt her breath catch in her chest.

She had to have misheard him; it must be a terrible mistake. She’d been too careful to hide them from the spotlight, keeping them away from the public’s claws. If they’d been discovered, the media would stop at nothing to tear them to shreds. Not to mention how she’d look if their relationship was found out—the Archon of Fontaine, falling head over heels for a mere mortal.

Furina had snatched the paper right out of the young boy’s hand. As he started protesting, she quickly threw a handful of Mora at him and bustled away to read the paper. Behind her, two ladies gasped and leaned over to whisper to each other.

“Is that Lady Furina?”

“I’m surprised she can show her face… I wouldn’t have the courage.”

Vultures, the lot of them! Had they no shame, gossiping about her from six feet away, like she couldn’t damn well hear them?

Their chatter faded to static and white noise in her ears, as the newspaper unfolded to reveal the story she’d been fearing. In it, the photo showed two lovers were caught in an embrace, one hidden in the other’s shoulder. The other was turned at just the right angle to show herself to the camera, grinning down at her partner with love in her eyes.

Furina stared in horror as her own face stared back at her.

⋆ ✩ ｡ ° ✩ ° ｡ ✩ ⋆

“Furina—Ahem, Lady Furina,” Neuvillette paused, blinking at his mistake. Oh dear. He must be on the verge of a breakdown, if he was already messing up her name. “We must begin the conference soon. Shall we leave?”

“I—I suppose that would be prudent,” Furina said shakily, straightening her back.

The trip to the Opera Epiclese was filled with silence. Furina stared at her hands in her lap, picking at the edges of her gloves, while Neuvillette gripped his cane tightly and periodically shot her concerned looks. The only words that were spoken were after they had arrived.

“Are you ready?” Neuvillette asked, hand curled around the curtain separating their backstage room to the front balcony.

“No,” Furina whispered hollowly, before smoothing her features into neutrality and stepping onto the stage.

“Hello, my dears.” Her lips moved of their own accord; voice disconnected from her mind. “I am here to address some rumours you may have heard. If you have been following the news, you would know that some pictures have been spreading of me and another individual. Since then, there has been a number of gossip floating around the court, very little of which is based on fact.”

“Tch, she’s already trying to avoid the blame.” A particularly loud audience member commented, loud enough for Furina to hear. She hesitated for a moment, before continuing.

“This person is as many have suspected,” Furina breathed out. “A romantic partner.”

“Ms Furina!” A young man—notebook and pen in hand; a reporter, likely—yelled out. Furina bit back the haughty That is Lady Furina to you on her tongue. Arrogance wouldn’t serve her well in this performance. “People have been saying that this ‘lover’ of yours is a threat to the integrity of the justice system. How do you respond to the allegations that they are using you to sway the court?”

“T-That isn’t true! They—”

“How can we trust the Palais Mermonia if the Archon is being influenced?” A voice in the front row whispered loudly to her friend.

“If she’s that weak to the charm of a random person, then what does that say about her judgement?” Another responded.

“I—” Furina stuttered out. “P-Please, calm yourselves! I can explain myself if you just wait—”

“Is this really what Fontaine is coming to?” That pesky reporter yelled out, only stirring the chaos further. The courtroom erupted into noise, all overlapping opinions drowning out any conscious thought of hers.

“Childish—”

“Unprofessional—”

“Not fit to lead—”

“—If she’s so distracted by love.”

If the first words were a punch in the gut, the last were certainly a strike straight to her skull. She flinched, her resolve cracking enough to let the throes of panic wash over her face. It was all too much: the lights, the noise, the audience.

But she was used to commotion. She had been acting for centuries.

In the drama, she had almost forgotten her place; the Court of Fontaine was her stage, and she was the leading actress. The citizens before her were the audience to her performance, and she was damned if she wasn’t to put on a show for them.

With a deep breath, she slipped right back into the façade, smoothing over the cracks in her mask with inhuman poise.

“They say the true tragedy of godhood, is one never gets the chance to live like a human.” Furina smiled coyly, playing up the eccentric goddess act that she had been cultivating for centuries. “So many experiences we are robbed of; growing up, falling in love.”

“You wanted to be human?” An audience member called out. Young woman, nervous expression. Perfect extra for Furina’s show.

She turned to stare her in the eyes, coy grin lighting up her features. “Tell me, dear. Have you ever had a lover of your own?”

 “M-me?!” She squeaked. “Oh… I-I haven’t really had a girlfriend. B-But I have been in a… relationship of sorts.” The audience member spluttered and blushed. “A… summer fling, I suppose.”

“Well, wouldn’t I be a fool not to chase a summer fling of my own?” Furina tilted back her head with a laugh, letting her voice boom across the Opera with the confidence that left the audience hanging on her every word. “Oh, my dearest citizens. Do you think so lowly of me to think I’d let a brief bit of romance keep me from my duties? That I would be blinded by something so silly as love?”

“You don’t love them?” Another nervous audience member asked.

Yes, Furina wanted to scream. I love them more than I have ever loved anything in this world.

“Ah, love. Such a novel concept.” She loved them, she did. Oh, how she hoped they would forgive them for this. “The only love I hold is for my people and my nation! I need no lover, when I already have the love of my beautiful Fontaine.”

“I believe we have strayed off-topic,” Neuvillette said, smoothly shifting their attention to him. “The Court of Fontaine retains that this individual carries no influence over Lady Furina, the Palais Mermonia or the Fontainian justice system. This… relationship is something inconsequential that has no effect over Lady Furina’s work, and is not of a concern to Fontaine’s citizens.” Damn right it wasn’t their concern. “To put it frankly, this person is of no significance at all.”

Only Neuvillette was close enough to hear the sharp gasp that escaped her.

“This conference is hereby adjourned.”

They were going to hate her.

How was she supposed to look them in the eyes, after telling an entire courtroom that they were of no importance to her? The love of her life, the one who brought light into the world and a smile of genuine joy upon her face with just their presence. She imagined them watching the court; hearing her words, feeling them strike against their skin like blades.

They were going to hate her, and she would let them.

She would let them hate her, if it meant the public would forget their name. The moment they disappeared from the light, then the rumours would disappear just the same.

And a part of her—a small, barely noticeable, inconsequential part of her, but a part of her nonetheless—breathed a sigh of relief at the knowledge that her balance hadn’t been overturned. It was selfish, she knew that, and the thought disgusted her as much as it brought her comfort. That part whispered that it was for the best, not just for them but for her as well. Her reputation was secure, they were quietly pushed away from the light, and the scandal would die down quickly.

Furina stumbled backstage, stomach spinning. She leaned heavily against the wall, eyes squeezed shut, dreading the moment she would have to go home and face her lover after what she had done.

“Oh, darling.” She murmured. “Please forgive me.”

reblogs and comments are appreciated! ♡

[n7valkyrien]

knowing that blood colour wouldn’t be the major determinant of scar tissue colour, i'm currently writing up a post predicting turian scar colour and its biological basis.

initially, i hypothesised that turian scars are pink or brown, due to collagen and myoglobin (myoglobin is wrong btw), and the lack of melanin in garrus’ case (hypopigmentation->pink) or excessive melanin for hyperpigmented scars (->brown). but the further i go down this rabbit hole…holy hell. im practically living on google scholar now.

based on my research so far, it is deduced that turian scars would neither be pink nor blue. they'd lean more towards pale violet or greyish for hypopigmented scars, and slowly getting darker, closer to the original skin tone, as the scars mature.

for hyperpigmentation it’s getting complicated bc melanin is made from l-tyrosine, which means turians would use d-tyrosine instead. as a result, the metabolic pathway for melanin synthesis could be wildly different due to enzyme specificity.

i’m still in theoretical territory, but even if we can create a synthetic alternate metabolic pathway, idk if it is possible to create melanin from d-tyrosine or not. even if so, would its properties (including colour) even be the same as in humans, being made from d-tyrosine?

fresh wound (after cleaning the blood), however, would make sense being blue, just not bright blue, but off-white with a subtle blue undertone. (<- can u even notice i changed the text colour to the colour i'm describing?)

(this also means the blue scar mod only makes sense for a fresh wound that is still bleeding. it's still very cool to look at. i'm just mildly bothered, not because of the mod altering anything, but that people are saying turian scars should be blue because their blood is blue, which is not a scientifically correct argument itself. while blood does play a part in determining the colour of certain scar tissues, human scars aren't bright red like our blood either. they're pink or greyish-brown)

still doing more research but the post im writing up is already pretty long lmao. and bioware could just say it’s due to a fictional pigment called xyzoid which is pink then all my research would be in vain <3

[pingintech]

i wish people talked more about how (especially non stuttering) speech impediments are infantilized

like not even just in how people treat you the woobification of speech impediments (the way people use uwu speak as like a teehee funny thing its so adorable when people cant say "l"s and "r"s) people saying your voice sounds "cute" or assuming your speech problems imply developmental/intellectual disabilities

god forbid you do also have developmental or intellectual disabilities because then youre much more likely to have difficulties finding ways to express yourself around legitimate articulation difficulties

and if your speech impediment isnt the result of a developmental or intellectual disability the way people will instantly assume your actual mouth is lazy and slow

but even from the perspective of being in speech therapy in your teens and adults every single resource app flashcard or speech activities given to us all the way until 12th grade were geared towards actual children

i was talking to fucking talking tom less than a week away from graduation and reading from bright colorful flashcards with cartoon pictures in them

and the best representation non stutterers have in media are literal cartoon animals like looney toons or mickey mouse and friends

best case scenario is that randos on the street assume its an accent i definitely think aside from the autism part of why i overexplain everything and am very hyperverbal is also to compensate for my speech issues

the way that so much of participation in society hinges on peoples ability to clearly articulate themselves

the way your arguments are so often discounted and thrown aside if you cant perfectly articulate it

people genuinely take you less seriously if you have difficulty speaking

the implication that the way you speak naturally fundamentally needs to be trained out of you because its wrong and broken

and a lot of speech impediments are literally due to congenital mouth shape/nasal differences deafness or being hoh and are literally uncontrollable but will still be forced into taking years of speech therapy anyway or are the result of difficulties with esl and speech impediments are frequently given pretty insulting names

aside from the obvious ones like tongue tie or lazy tongue theyre often words that are specifically difficult for the person with the speech impediment to pronounce

even "stutter" is often difficult for people with stutters bc of the st sound the multiple t sounds close together followed closely by the er

rhotacism is the inability to say /r/ sounds and it LITERALLY starts with a hard /r/ sound

lisps often describe difficulties with /l/s and /s/s

slurred speech is difficulties with /s/s /l/s and /r/s and the r sound in slur is LITERALLY and /er/ sound one of the more difficult ones for people with speech impediments to pronounce

lambdacism is difficulty saying /l/ and it LITERALLY starts with an /l/

the way speech therapy is designed feels structurally cruel to the people it seeks to help and yet every speech pathologist ive ever met acts like theyre doing these poor dumb disabled kids a huge service and doing the lords work

the way in which i immediately dont trust anyone who says they want to go into speech pathology to not be condescending and ableist af

the way in which i legitimately do not think people with abled speech patterns and behavior actually care about what people with speech differences are going through unless they know someone who personally has to go through it

[babynapa]

hi!!! i wanted to ask you if you had any tips for going about choosing colors? your art provokes very distinct feelings/atmospheres via the colors & i do hope to do the same someday ^_^

hello! thank you... i'm actually quite insecure about my colouring, but i think a big thing that helped me was putting down one base undercolour that i base all my other colours around and not just picking random colours from wherever (sticking close to it on the colour wheel)

i'll use these colours from my comic as an example bc it has 2 different schemes for mood change effect:

the left panel is kinda goofy or whatever, so i chose that green/yellow in the bg there to have a happier/sillier tone. their skin/clothing are still around that colour, though.

this is for ena's (girl on left) skin tone and shirt respectively:

the top half of that colour preview is the undercolour i used, and the bottom half are the subject colours. you can see that if that shirt colour is isolated, it's orange; but put on top of this green, it looks red. you can also see that i dont deviate too much from that undertone on the side slider.

you can see the same thing done w the right panel, which a red tone was used instead of the green/yellow (because red=scary/tense) etc.

these are for clare's (shocked one) skin tone, and then renee's (girl on her right) shirt colour.

you can see that for the left panel, i tended to stay on the upper yellow, while for the right panel i stayed more within the bottom red range on the slider. for both of these, i stayed within the top left of the picker area--thats where the earthier/soft look comes from. it would be different if i strayed further right, which is much more saturated and bright.

i also usually like to choose a less severe line colour, in this case its more of a very dark brown instead of black. i find that it tends to compliment these colours more with the same reasoning as everything else i talked about.... and it kind of gives it a faded vintage look?

anyway, im usually more of a sketcher than an illustrator so take it as a starting point... and don't hesitate to colour drop drawings with colours/moods you like and see how they interact with each other on the sliders/wheels. that's how i learned when i started out.

also, a little colour overlay on top of your drawing is an easy cheat to get your colours more cohesive--i still use it at times. learning the ins-and-outs of how it works without resorting to it is still useful though, and in my experience it makes your colours more specific and stand out

i hope this makes sense and/or helps!!!!

[ohmtoff]

Creep

Nick Sturniolo x OC smut

Summary: Nick tried to take a picture of a hot stranger in the grocery store, but when his flash went off, Ethan, the hot man in question, used Nick’s clumsiness for his own advantage

Contains: Anal sex, bottom!nick, top!oc, oral sex, spanking (very minor, not explicit), unsafe sex, barebacking, unconsensual photo taking, fingering, rimming, hair pulling, light dom/sub, dirty talk, slight crying during sex, overstimulation

Word count: 5,078 words

Disclaimers: minors dni. will contain grammar mistakes, english isn't my first language. this is FICTION, always use protection during sex, never take a pic of a stranger without their consent.

a/n: this was partly made bc i cant get over the idea of larray tara and nick as a trio like IM GNA LOSE IT. the tiktok talked about was (https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSF8YxXn6/) its so funny i need to include it.

——————————————————————————

Nick laughs, reading Larray’s last message about a tiktok he found of a guy pretending to be called gay in middle school and his friend defending him, both of them relating to that video strongly.

He tries to reign in his grin, as he’s on a supermarket trying to buy groceries, and laughing to yourself is just plain weird, so he forces himself to press his lips together as Larray and Tara sent jokes that make his belly hurt. He briefly takes his eyes off the string of messages, hearing a loud cough, and clocks grey sweatpants on strong thighs. He’s interested, immediately, checking out the rest of the tall boy who is standing next to him by the snack aisle, holding onto his cart. A black short sleeved compression shirt defining his strong chest and bicep, complimenting bouncy and slightly curly brown hair, a face adorning deep brown eyes that could pass for both handsome or pretty, and veiny hands that make Nick’s mind wander. He texts the group.

jacob elordi brainrot

Nick: hottest. guy. ever. in the grocery store

Larray: ???? not possible, I’m at home 

Tara: ew

Larray: rude

Tara: anyways

Tara: PHOTO

Larray: how hot?

Nick: grey sweats and compression shirt hot

Larray: PHOTO

Tara: PHOTO

Nick: I can’t take a pic guys that’s creepy

Larray: PHOTO

Tara: PHOTO

Nick: No

Tara: come oooonnnn PHOTO

Nick: ugh fine

It didn’t take much for them to convince Nick because he knows he actually really wants to take a picture of the hottie to his right, for scientific purposes of course. Nick makes sure his phone is on silent before he angles it, tipping it back a little as he hopes he captures most of the guy. He tries to look at others on the store, rather than focus on what he’s doing, thumb moving around where he thinks the snapshot button is until – flash – the bright white light of his camera lights up the entire back case of his phone. 

Nick feels his heart catch in the back of his throat, and he’s slow in moving his hand, the immediate humiliation making him freeze. He can’t help but look at the stranger, and he sees how he takes in Nick’s obvious creeper shot, Nick feeling the anxiety coarse through him at lightning speed.

He’s fearful as the stranger frowns, stepping over to him, and Nick slightly backs up immediately.

“I’m - ”

“Did you just take a photo of me?” the stranger asks, and Nick thinks his face may melt, the shame of his actions making him lie, shaking his head silently.

“You didn’t?” the stranger asks, even more handsome, prettier, up close, but he’s clearly unimpressed by Nick’s rudeness, and Nick is panicking, brain drawing blanks.

“I…” Nick gapes, looking for the words, “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” the stranger demands forcefully, grabbing Nick’s phone, Nick gasping at that, but too embarrassed to fight it. The boy doesn’t look through Nick’s phone, just holds it and stares at Nick accusingly, Nick having to shrug, truly embarrassed and he feels pairs of eyes on his back judging him. 

“Come with me,” the stranger demands, still holding Nick’s phone, making his way to ut of the store, both of their carts abandoned. Nick doesn’t have much of a choice if he values his phone, and he follows, ashamed.

“I am sorry,” he pants, keeping up with the other boy’s pace, “can I have it back?”

The stranger slows down slightly, starting to look through the phone. Nick realises with horror that his phone isn’t locked, as he kept the camera open, and he reaches to grab his phone back, but the stranger is tall, holding it higher as he clicks on the incoming messages.

Larray: PHOTO!!! What’s with the silence girl? You better be sucking his dick!

Tara: PHOTO

The stranger scrolls up, Nick groaning in embarrassment, watching him read Nick’s earlier messages about how hot he is.

“Seriously creepy,” he shakes his head, deep voice just making it even worse as Nick cringes, “you’re perving on me in the store and taking my photo without my consent?”

“I’m genuinely sorry,” Nick said, his voice tinged with guilt, “I’ll delete it immediately and leave.”

The boy is doing something on his phone and Nick attempts to grab it back, but still, he’s too slow, still not tall enough.

“Ah ah,” the stranger tuts, “don’t worry. I was just sending your friends the creepy photo.” Nick starts to feel a little sick with anxiety, just wanting this to be over. He is never, ever listening to both his friends again. He’s frustrated and desperate, and in a fit of anger, he flounces off, “keep the fucking phone,” he rages, regretting it instantly, but he has no choice but to continue walking, leaving his very badly needed phone in the hands of another man. You idiot, you’re a public figure, what if he does something to your socials, he screams internally

“Hey!” Nick hears, “come back here.” He stops, and looks at the stranger with anxiety, his face hot from the embarrassment as he awkwardly walks back. Nick is confident that now his phone will be given back to him and he is secretly relieved, knowing he can’t afford to walk away and leave his public image in the hands of a stranger. He isn’t sure how he’d explain that to his brothers.

“You could make it up to me,” the boy suggests, and Nick looks at him properly, the smirk on his mouth and the way his eyes move, seemingly resting on Nick’s crotch.

“W – what?” Nick stammers, blushing, and the guy shrugs.

“You think I’m hot,” he states, “I think you’re hot, too.”

Nick chuckles nervously, unsure, a little scared this is some bizarre prank, but the boy is so sincere, nothing about him suggesting this is a joke. Nick has seen the look he has in his eyes in many boys and men, who Nick has flirted with and fucked before, but this is the first time Nick’s ever felt so drawn to another.

“I live near here,” the boy gestures, “I can think of a few things you can do for me to make up for your lack of manners.”

Nick wants to tell him to fuck off, wipe the slightly arrogant smirk off his face, but the confident way the guy stands, waiting on Nick’s response, his certainty, is making Nick’s dick twitch in interest, in want.

“Whatever,” the man smiles, casually slipping the phone back into Nick’s pocket before shrugging again, sauntering off, leaving Nick stood in the middle of the parking lot, torn between walking away – and he knows, he knows, kicking himself for it – or running after this guy desperately, letting him know how badly he wants him to make good on his promises.

He’s about to disappear when Nick makes a snap decision and runs after him, panting as he catches up, the boy turning to look at him from his car as he hears footsteps, bursting out in a laughter, his grin taking up his entire face. Nick readjusts his sweater.

“I’m horny, don’t – don’t get cocky,” he mutters, but the other boy doesn’t say a word, just makes Nick feel dizzy with a long look as he opens the passenger seat of his car and motion for Nick to get inside. 

“Nick, right?” he asks, as he hops in and shut the door of the drivers seat, and Nick nods, assuming he saw his name on the messages, “I’m Ethan.”

Nick was going to respond but his eyes catches the way Ethan’s seatbelt tightens on his pecs and Nick almost drooled. His eyes traveled upward to see this adonis-like man smirking and Nick swiftly turned his head towards the road. The drive to the apartment was short and thankfully not awkward due to the music playing, but Nick was still sweating even with the air conditioner on because oh my god he’s so fucking hot, is that his huge dick print on his sweatpants? Fuck, his veins are so visible why are his fingers so LONG? that shit can reach my tonsi-

His thoughts were interrupted by the car finally parked at the other man’s house. Both of them walked towards the door with haste and no words exchanged, eyes focused on going inside.

Ethan unlocked the door and let Nick in, the latter unable to get a word out before Ethan’s mouth flew towards his, and he’s harsh and fast and demanding, so Nick matches it, kissing Ethan like he needs it, and maybe he does. Ethan is shoving him into what Nick assumes is his bedroom, pulling off Nick’s sweater, as Nick yanks that heavenly tight shirt, until they meet Ethan’s bed and Ethan throws him down on it. He watches, heart racing, as Ethan pulls down his jeans, pulling at them forcefully, yanking them off as Nick helps him, pulling him back down for a kiss. Nick’s never known someone kiss this way; unyielding and demanding as he grabs Nick’s head and devours him, Nick pulling back at Ethan’s tangled hair, until Ethan grabs him wrists and pins them down.

Nick can’t help but moan, his dick hard in his briefs, because Ethan is pressing all his buttons right now. He hates the self-satisfied grin on Ethan’s smug, pretty face, but there’s no denying Nick loves it rough, which Ethan clearly does too.

“Like that, sweetheart?” Ethan asks, tongue running over his bottom lip, Nick watching it’s every moment, groaning in response, Ethan’s large hands still wrapped around delicate wrists, still pinning Nick down. Nick is fully hard and needy now, Ethan letting go of his wrists to grip each side of his face and bruise him with a kiss, Nick making the most of his new found freedom by gripping Ethan’s shoulders, nails digging in.

He’s a mess already, the curly haired man moving harsh kisses to his neck and chest as he moves down, the kisses becoming wetter, sloppier, Nick whimpering as Ethan ghosts over his clothed dick, mouthing at him teasingly.

“Please,” Nick whispers, but Ethan either doesn’t hear or ignores it, pressing feather light kisses across him, Nick beginning to peel his briefs off only to have his hands batted away.

“Do that again and I’ll tie you up,” Ethan warns, and Nick’s cock jumps at the tone in his voice, obeying, hands grabbing fistfuls of Ethan’s duvet instead to stop them from straying. Ethan stops, pushing Nick encouraging so his head is propped up, and he has little choice except to look at Ethan as he mercifully begins to strip him off his briefs. Nick’s toes curl as they’re discarded and Ethan is back between his legs, Nick waiting for the inevitable lick, looking down at Ethan as he’s forced to wait.

“What?” he asks, knowing his face is pink and he’s far gone, Ethan looking at him with playful eyes as he spreads Nick’s legs even further apart, leaning down, finally, Nick thinks, to touch his dick, but Ethan presses wet kisses and soft bites to the inside of Nick’s right thigh, moving up as he gets closer to Nick’s dick, nudging his balls with his nose and Nick is going to pass out from the feel of Ethan’s skin right there, from feeling his tongue and his little huffs of breath, whimpering embarrassingly loud as Ethan finally licks a long stripe up his dick to the tip, suckling the pre-cum collected there before he stops.

“Ethan,” Nick begs, and Ethan does the same to his left, Nick sure he’s intent on leaving bite marks on his fleshy thighs where there’s plenty for Ethan to sink his teeth into, Nick wondering if it’s possible to come from this. He’s obeying Ethan’s no touching rule, for now, and it is torture, before Ethan repeats this special form of hell – licking from Nick’s balls up to the tip of his cock, in one long, slow lick – flicking his tongue over the head, and pulling away. “This – I can’t do this,” Nick moans, “please just, give me…”

Ethan shakes his head, and Nick falls quiet, until he feels the blessed tight heat of Ethan’s mouth around his cock, Ethan sucking his dick perfectly, swirling his tongue around the head as he comes up, Nick crying out, trying his best to hold off, to wait.

“Ethan, I’m – I - ” he whines, Ethan stopping, quick and elegant as he leans up and kisses Nick’s mouth, “what’s wrong, baby?”

“Let me,” Nick gasps, trying to push Ethan down, “I want to do it to you.”

He does, too, because Ethan’s sweatpants are still on and he needs them off, wants to see Ethan’s dick and taste it in his mouth. Nick loves sucking cock, loves the feel of it in his mouth and the taste of come, and he’s good at it, wants to make Ethan whimper in the way Ethan’s made him shake.

“Yeah? You like sucking dick?” Ethan asks, unyielding, sadly, still looming over Nick and Nick gives up on trying to change their positions, not exactly hating this one, Ethan grabbing his bitten thighs as he attacks Nick’s mouth and neck with his soft lips.

“Yeah,” Nick grins, “of course.”

“Why should I let you suck me off?” Ethan asks, letting Nick’s thighs drop as he keeps Nick pinned down, kissing parts of Nick’s face that Nick doesn’t think anyone has ever kissed, always coming back to his mouth, his neck, moving to his collarbone, shoulder, biting. Nick is going to look like he’s been in a fight. Matt and Chris will have a field day when he finally turns up at home.

“Um, because – I’m great?” Nick asks, frowning, wondering what kind of weirdo turns down a blowjob, and Ethan stops so he can look at Nick, Nick continuing to be bowled over by the way Ethan’s eyes seem to burn into his skin.

“What makes you so great, pretty boy?” Ethan rasps, and Nick brings his nails down Ethan’s back.

“I look good with a cock in my mouth,” Nick teases, “and, after all, you did say I need to make it up to you.”

“You need to, don’t you?” Ethan grins, then moving so that he straddles Nick’s waist, Nick helping him pull down his sweats, Ethan standing briefly to get the fabric off his feet and boxers off before he’s shuffling up, Nick still propped up nicely by the large pillows. Nick attempts to not given Ethan the satisfaction of his astonishment at how large Ethan’s dick is, but he fails.              

“Still feeling confident, baby?” Ethan asks, hand wrapping around his cock as he plays with himself, jerking off, and Nick can’t help but lick his lips in anticipation, nodding, while he’s nervous he’s excited, knowing Ethan’s dick is going to fill him up properly, that he’ll feel the thick head knock at the back of his throat and makes his eyes water. He’s hungry for it. Ethan moves closer, knees over Nick’s shoulder as his big hand plants against the wall and his other hand hangs onto his headboard. Nick opens his mouth, ready for it, desperate for it, but he’s patient, waiting for Ethan’s say so, and Ethan makes slow, deliberate movements, wiping the leaking tip of his cock on Nick’s mouth and his cupid’s bow.

“Good boy for waiting,” Ethan praises, and Nick’s dick jumps, “you can suck it now, baby.”

Nick takes as much as he can, which is over half, but not all of it, and sucks in a hollow motion, moving back up before he forces himself to take every inch, down to Ethan’s balls, and pulls back, spluttering.

“Hey,” Ethan says, taking Nick by the chin, “take it easy, baby, don’t choke.”

“M’sorry,” Nick whispers, embarrassed, wanting to be good, to hear Ethan’s praises once more, and he’s easier with it this time, taking Ethan into his mouth and sucking him properly, rather than racing to get the entire dick inside him, and he can enjoy this, sucking Ethan at a nice, fast pace, but not too fast, getting off to the weight of Ethan’s dick and the smell of him, Ethan silent but present, running his thumbs over Nick’s cheekbones as Nick sucks his dick, happy and contented.

He mewls in protest when Ethan grabs his hair and pulls him off, trying to follow Ethan’s dick, not ready to stop, but Ethan isn’t interested, easily flipping Nick over so he’s face down on the bed. Nick waits as the pillows are wrenched from him, Ethan lifting him like a ragdoll as he puts them under Nick’s hips, Nick’s ass higher than before. Nick’s feels like he’s on fire, his skin aflame, pale but also pink with the heat, and he braces himself for Ethan’s fingers, surprised when Ethan covers him with his own body, kissing his neck.

“You’re so hot,” Ethan growls, mouth on Nick’s jaw, and Nick is sure Ethan is trying to actually eat him, “as soon as I saw you get on that aisle, the first thing I thought was, I want to fuck that boy,” Ethan smiles, Nick moaning as Ethan continues licking him, “saw your ass and thought, I bet he loves riding dick.”

Nick all but whimpers, pushing back, needy, and Ethan shows compassion, bringing his hand past Nick’s waist to curve over Nick’s ass, gripping at his hip.

“Do you? Love riding cock?” Ethan pants.

“Yeah,” Nick says, pushing his ass back to feel Ethan’s dick against it, “want me to ride you?”

“Patience, baby,” Ethan demands, pulling Nick over to kiss him, Nick moving with Ethan, not expecting the disappointed moan when Ethan leaves him, moving down and spreading Nick’s legs further apart. Nick keeps his hands up, mouth open and wet on his left hand, gripping the duvet with his other hand, and he trembles as Ethan spreads his ass open, crying out as he feels Ethan’s thumb tease over his rim, pressing down and ever so slightly inwards, teasing, always.

“I’m not a virgin,” Nick says throatily, hoping Ethan will speed up at that, the way he’s playing with Nick’s ass slow and gentle but mind melting at the same time, and Ethan just laughs at that, slapping Nick’s ass playfully with his other hand.

“I didn’t think you were,” Ethan says, voice loud in the silence of the apartment, “I still wanna take my sweet time.”

Nick whines as Ethan continues to give him something but not everything, loud as Ethan slips and pushes a finger inside of him, Nick stretching his legs, his toes, in a heavenly trance as the man explores him. He feels Ethan move, and then hears the squirt of lube, feels another finger join the first, and he gasps as Ethan scissors them, pulling them to the rim, almost fully out, as his thumb makes the gentlest of scrapes on his perineum, to his balls. Nick moans out on his hand, practically drooling.

He panics as he feels Ethan’s fingers disappear, not wanting this to be over, throwing his head back as he searches for an answer.

“Turn back around, baby,” Ethan insists, not looking at Nick, transfixed on his ass. He immediately obliges, feeling his brain mush and fill with Ethan Ethan Ethan. He feels like it’s been hours but he knows that’s untrue, and he’s ready to beg for it, for Ethan to open him again and slide his big cock inside him, but he doesn’t have to say anything as Ethan spreads him before dipping down. Nick all but screams as Ethan’s tongue licks across the rim of his hole, wet and rough. Nick instinctively tries to move forward, but he can’t; he’s facedown and Ethan’s hands are alternate from his hips to his asscheeks, spreading them again, as he eats Nick out. The rough texture of Ethan’s tongue, the way he presses his big, puffy lips on Nick’s rim is almost enough to make Nick sob. He’s holding it together, just thrusting as much as he can with the pillows underneath him and when he moves his forehead, he notices how sweaty he is, the back of his hands shining.

He yelps as Ethan pushes his tongue inside his hole and brings his hand up to the base of Nick’s spine, pressing his thumb inside of Nick to keep him slightly open. Nick is lost, utterly ruined, shook by how this stranger knows his body better than he does, whining as Ethan keeps his face buried in his ass; not for one-minute hesitating or slowing down as he eats Nick out as passionately as he kisses his mouth.

“I’m – Ethan - ,” he begs, knowing he’s a few well timed thrusts from Ethan’s tongue and fingers away from coming on the pillows beneath him, Ethan pulling his fingers out with a clear, wet pop, removing his tongue too, not before he sinks his teeth into one of Nick’s asscheeks. Nick is wrecked, his body tingling, his thighs burning from Ethan’s sharp teeth, a wetness between his legs like he’s never felt and an ache in his balls that is begging for release.

“You’re perfect,” Ethan assures him, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Nick looking at him longingly over his shoulder, “what do you want, baby?”

“You,” Nick moans, pushing himself back, wanting Ethan’s cock in him, “please, Ethan.”

“Mmm,” Ethan muses, and Nick is pleased to see he’s also hot, pink, sweat linging on his forehead from exertion, Nick yelping as Ethan brings his hand down on Nick’s ass, playful but enough to tan it, “turn around.”

Nick does, fairly weak now and desperate, beyond desperate, for his orgasm to tear through him and leave him blind and gasping. Ethan throws away the pillows carelessly, grabbing Nick’s hips and bringing him down, as he lubes up his dick and presses the head against Nick’s hole. Nick nods, and Ethan begins to push, Nick inhaling, mouth open, as he feels the familiar burn of a nice, thick cock pressing inside of him. Ethan is slow but intense, forcing Nick’s thighs up as he makes his way in, Nick groaning, a little high pitched towards the end when he feels Ethan is fully in. He lets one of Nick’s legs drop, apparently unable to leave Nick’s face or hair alone, before he begins to fuck Nick, gently at first.

“You naughty boy,” Ethan whispers, “is this what you wanted, huh?”

“Yeah,” Nick begs, voice broken, “god, please, give it to me.”

Ethan doesn’t waste time. Nick lets go of any dignity he was hoping to keep, moaning and whimpering with every single thrust Ethan makes. Ethan takes Nick like Nick belongs to him, like this is his right, to spread Nick wide and to fuck him, hips snapping into hips as Ethan clings to him tightly, Nick feeling Ethan’s dick so deep inside him, touching places he’s never felt anyone touch, his vision clouding over.

“Ethan,” Nick sobs, overwhelmed, Ethan slowing down, holding Nick open by his thighs as he pulls his cock out, Nick horrified.

“Ethan! Please! No! I’m sorry, I’m fine, I’m ok, please give it to me,” Nick begs, now losing his self-respect along with his long-gone dignity, feeling on the edge of tears. Ethan can’t leave him like this, can’t bring him to the brink of such pleasure to stop, it’s too cruel, Ethan once again flipping him over so now Nick is on his stomach. He cries out as Ethan slides straight back in, pulling Nick so Nick is on his knees, his upper body stretched out, Ethan’s big hands on both hips, slamming into him, the wet sound of slapping skin obscene alongside Nick’s enthusiastic cries and Ethan’s panting.

Nick is dripping with sweat, sliding off his own arms every time he tries to rest his head, yelping as Ethan yanks him up by his hair.

“Yeah? This what you need, Nick?” he asks, grunting, and Nick moans his agreement, unable to do much else. The forced stretch of his neck is delicious, Ethan not letting his pace drop for a moment, setting a punishing and perfect speed, Nick’s leaking cock a mess as he feels his balls tighten, knowing he’s finally, finally going to lose control and feel that blissful high.

“Want you to come like this,” Ethan says, slapping his ass again, “want you to come from getting fucked.” Nick can’t say anything, can’t even nod, because Ethan’s still pulling his hair as he slams in, quickening his almost reckless pace, Nick only concentrating on that one thing, that one feeling. Ethan is hitting his spot, perfect and fast and desperate and with one last yank of Nick’s hair, he is coming, begging and groaning, babbling a mixture of Ethan and God, blacking out as he does. 

He’s beyond over-stimulated, debauched and destroyed as Ethan follows him, letting go of Nick’s hair to cling onto his hips and fuck him with a few last, sprinting thrusts, Nick gasping as he feels Ethan fill him with come, warm and thick, Ethan crying out loudly as well, collapsing on top of Nick.

“Fuck,” Ethan groans into Nick’s hair, “holy fuck.”

“Yeah,” Nick agrees, still too weak to open his eyes or speak.

Ethan kisses the back of his neck before he pulls out his dick, Nick cringing as he hears the wet sounds, feeling Ethan fall out of him, and he’s mildly disgusted when Ethan rocks back onto his knees, opening Nick’s ass again, looking down at his wet, come filled ass.

“Ethan,” Nick accuses, feeling his face heat up Ethan further, Ethan just smirking, proud of the mess he’s created, Nick sore and sensitive as Ethan plays with him a little, whimpering as he feels some come drip out. Ethan laughs at Nick's embarrassment, leaning over and scrambling around some bedside drawers. Nick gasps as he feels coolness on his ass, Ethan clearly wiping him clean.

Ethan flips back down next to Nick, Nick still curled into the pillow, not shy but very aware of his sweaty, exhausted, fucked-out look. Ethan runs his fingers through red hair, not tugging this time, and he leans in, kissing Nick in a way that betrays his previous rough and ready treatment. Nick responds softly, kissing back.

“You ruined me,” Nick gasps, still numb, and Ethan stifles a giggle, “you ruined me,” he retorts. They lie like this for a few precious minutes, Ethan still excited as he sits up, ruffling his hair before he fishes around for something, Nick half watching out of the corner of his eye when he sees Ethan hold out Nick’s phone like he’s won a prize.

“Unlock it,” Ethan says, handing it to Nick, who does it without question. Ethan scrolls, finding the groupchat

The chat after Ethan sent a photo of himself went into a frenzy, a long conversation between his two friends going about how hot he is.

Ethan giggles at it, and Nick thinks he’s quite beautiful, pretty brown eyes and that sinful mouth and a tongue that Nick wants to feel a thousand times more.

Nick frowns as Ethan types, lazily trying to grab it back but missing entirely.

“What are you typing? Ethan?”

“I’m saying… ‘he’s just been balls deep inside me’,” Ethan cackles, and Nick shoots up at that, grabbing his phone, seeing the exact words sent by ‘Nick’ in the chat.

“Fuck!” he says, “Ethan!”

He settles back down, cringing as he sees the messages from Ethan's first text fly in, making Ethan laugh loudly and Nick cringe but smile all the same.

jacob elordi brainrot

Tara: HOLY FUCKKKK

Larray: u little SLUT

Larray: how big is he?

Tara: NICK FINALLY GOT DICK GUYS IM SO PROUD OF HIMM 😭😭😭

Larray: ANSWER ME RN

Ethan snatches it back, taking Nick by surprised then takes a snap of them, Nick hiding half his face under the duvet, Ethan looking far too pleased with himself.

“You look so cute,” Ethan says, and Nick’s stomach summersaults again, watching Ethan send the picture, waiting for the instant replies.

His phone pinged constantly after the photo was sent, Nick can imagine what kinds of debauchery his two friends are yapping about the situation.

“Your friends are funny,” Ethan laughs, putting the phone aside, and Nick is over his initial embarrassment, especially as Ethan cuddles into him, letting Nick rest in the crook of his neck. He feels Ethan’s arm around him and kisses into his hair so he sneaks an arm around the other, hugging his waist close, enjoying the feel of a smile against his forehead.

“They got me laid, so, yeah, they’re ok,” Nick says into Ethan’s chest, Ethan playing with his hair as he mutters, “they got you completely fucked – ruined – I think you said.”

“Shit, let it go,” Nick teases.

“You’ve had better, baby?” Ethan checks, and Nick wants to lie, to tease, to flirt, but he has no energy and it’s preposterous to think he's had better than this. The sex was magnificent, electric, and Nick is still buzzing from it, wondering if he’ll ever come down from it.

“No,” he says shyly, honestly, “you?”

“No, shit. I thought so, but you were something else,” Ethan praises, and Nick preens under his compliments and praise, flushing from pride rather than embarrassment this time around.

“You’re gonna stay, yeah?” Ethan asks, and Nick assumed he was. It feels natural, being here, like this, with Ethan. Nick nods into Ethan’s chest, and Ethan hugs him tighter, promising they’ll chill and order food later, Nick can stay and they’ll watch films.

“Maybe you can make good on your word later,” Ethan growls, “and ride me, bounce on my dick, huh?”

“I can’t even think about any physical activity right now,” Nick sighs dramatically, Ethan tickling his ear. Nick has his eyes closed but he can feel Ethan’s huge, beautiful smile, the visual of it imprinted in his brain. He’s already thinking about it though, climbing on top of Ethan and sitting back on his dick, rolling his hips.

“Okay, sweetheart,” Ethan said, and Nick snuggles into him, making a mental note to thank his friends when he next sees them. He’s sore but satisfied. All he needs is a nap, some food, and then he thinks he’ll enjoy showing Ethan exactly how good he is.

[wackywatchdotcom]

What do you think Queenie was like when she was around? What do you think about the HC of her potentially being on the spectrum?

i dont have a super concrete idea, but i do imagine, true to kingers word, that she was very funny and creative!!!

ive mentioned it before but i dont think she was actually an entomologist- just someone invested in it! (the only way i could see her being an entomologist is if, for some reason, c&a wanted an entomologist on board for... something? but thats a very biological field so i dont think this is the case). at most i think shed worked related jobs in the distant past, but nothing recquiring a degree in the field

despite this i do think she was just as weird as entomologists are. because theyre all weird and its great. every entomologist or person DEEPLY dedicated to entomology ive ever met has been eccentric in some way. i think she was like this. what this entails is ambiguous

(id use myself as a source but i think im closer to kinger in terms of knowledge on entomology, in that its above standard knowledge of insects but still not nearly as much as an actual entomologist has)

also i think she was bad at completely dialing down talk about insects. i think shed try but as she talks itd gradually veer right back into just her saying her own thoughts, complete with abbreviations and ento terms that no one else but her knows

she was definitely very funny and probably in like. a very goofy way. i think she was generally pretty composed but had a very lighthearted sense of humor. i think with her general like... demeanor of Knowing What Shes Doing that shed just Say Things that would catch people off guard in a very silly way

in terms of creativity, i dont imagine she was an artist (or if she was i think it was a recent skill she was learning- maybe gangle was teaching her...) but i do imagine she had a very good ability to problem-solve and generally had a really good grasp on methods of doing things. creative is the best way to put it again. she was clever!!

i do think she was probably the more grounded of the two, less jumpy and more prone to thinking about the situation the two were in (what with how kingers personality ties into his chess piece being a king, i like the idea that hers ties in too). it gave her more of a tendency to really think about it all which contributed to her abstraction :(

i dont think she waas TOOOO much more serious than kinger though... i think they were both huge goofballs and it was sweet

tbqh my idea of her is ALSO influenced by my favorite tadc fic that i read a few weeks back and am still obsessed with (metamorphosis by beepborpdoodledorp!! its REALY good). i like to imagine she was like how she is in this!!!!

in terms of her being autistic i am ALWAYS a fan of interpretting characters as autistic. i looove the idea of entomology being a special interest of hers (especially bc i can certainly relate), and even w the minimal knowledge we have of her i think it works really well. i think i could come up with more elaborate details abt this other than the surface level stuff but id need to think on it more...

(i myself try to avoid hcing a character as autistic and then just making it about having special interests since thats only one facet ofc, though w the little info we have on her its one of the easiest things to point to... i would love to have more ideas for it)

though, i know its implied to be an abstraction thing but i DO like the idea that she found bright lights overstimulating. i could see her finding MOST things in the circus overstimulating. if she were around to meet pomni i think theyd be able to connect over that (considering i hc pomni as autistic too but i dont wanna derail this w rambling abt that HAHA). the humor thing may have created strange moments though since i think pomni has very little sense of humor- or at the very least, a highly specific one that is hard to hit. maybe queenie could have managed to make her laugh...

either way i REALLY like the idea. autism entomology combo WIN!!!!!

[fairlyang]

Gatita🕷️

you get recruited and slowly convince miguel you're on his side

w/c: 12K

pairing: miguel o’hara x blackcat!reader

tags: 18+ smut. mention of guns, blood, murder, death, grief. teasing, seducing, goes both ways, tension, slight choking, groping, kissing, interrupted, more tension, caves in, blowjob, fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it up!!), size difference, more choking

notes: my longest fic up to date which is a bit sad bc I think she flopped bc the hornies hate reading more than 1K sometimes 💀

The notorious Black Cat of New York but also happened to be the city's very own Spider Woman. An incredibly unexpected combination but what can one do when kidnapped by Kingpin and are forcibly meant to be his Guinea pig?

Then almost right after escaping getting bit by a radioactive spider....

On the bright side who else was able to rob banks and also be able to stop other criminals from doing so, before she gets to hit them herself? None other than yourself, of course.

You kept your two different lives separate, to the best of your ability anyway. Obviously no one was able to stop the infamous Black Cat or retrieve all the things she'd steal. Spider Woman on the other hand, stopping every other criminal or asshole on the streets, besides your alter ego.

You were going to hit up a jewelry store, to steal a few brand new diamonds for yourself. In your oh so casual Black Cat attire that consisted of a black spandex suit with the matching mask covering your eyes, along with the realistic long silver wig.

You were somewhat unrecognizable, but it wasn't like anyone from your personal life was gonna be robbing banks or jewelry stores. Or be anywhere near when you would be robbing one. There'd be no reason for anyone in your life to see you when you were doing Black Cat activities.

Or so you thought, before your whole world came crashing down.

I quickly turned off the security system in the jewelry store from the alley right next to it, I grabbed my bag of goodies and I hid my special tablet behind some trash before quickly going inside by the side door. It was vacant, as expected.

I went to the back of the store and look at the cases with the newest necklaces and rings embedded with shiny diamonds. I trail a finger along the glass and look down at the casing filled with only diamond rings.

I walked along the back of the store, looking at everything, the shiniest of rings and earrings until I spotted the most gorgeous necklace.

Filled with diamonds shaped like flower petals all along the neckline with a leaf shape hanging down with more diamonds embedded on its shape, with a red ruby sitting perfectly right in the middle of it. My eyes flicker with admiration and want, I needed it. I take my bag off from my shoulder and place it on the floor quickly opening it to grab something to open the case. Then I stop and stand up walking to the back of the case and scoff. The key.

What kind of dumbasses leave the fucking key out?

I shrug and roll my eyes unlocking the little door and take the necklace out carefully. No alarm.

I close the case and walk back to my bag and stuff it in one of its pockets then zip it up. I pick it up putting the strap back on my shoulder and walk around the store, stopping when something caught my eye.

I walk over to it and chuckle. How ironic... a gold necklace with a spider hanging out and yet another red ruby being held by it's arms and legs.

How could I not?

I grab a small tool with a pointy end and walk to the back of the counter. I kneel down and quickly unlock the little door and in just a few seconds it clicks open. I slide the door open and grab the necklace admiring the pretty ruby.

I stand up and grab a few other pieces then walk around the counter and back to my bag. I put them all in another pocket carefully then close it shut. I wrap my bag around my shoulders and head towards the side door, not really wanting anything else. I open the door and close it quietly before making my way to pick up my tablet from where I left it.

Sure enough it was there and I quickly turned the security system back on before using a web to swing up onto the roof of a building.

I always tried to be careful when using my webs but considering it was past 1am and it was empty out, i didn't have a care.

I walk along the edge of the roof looking at the view, admiring all the buildings and the glowing moon right above them. I jump onto the next roof and continue walking, keeping an eye out just in case. I jumped off roof to roof for about an hour, patrolling around, nothing out of the ordinary happening so i decide to make my way home.

I was a bit far from my apartment so I started swinging in the direction, feeling the cold breeze and going through the dimly light streets when my spidey senses go off when I'm one block away from my place. I swing on top of a roof and look down at an alleyway and widen my eyes to see my best friend, Ben getting mugged.

I curse under my breath and feel my heart start to race. I put my bag on a corner of the roof and look down before carefully climbing down a set of pipes, unbeknownst to the muggers.

I was right above them now and I take a deep breath then jump on top of one, knocking him off Ben and giving him space to catch a breather. I punch his jaw once I tackled him down to the floor then continuously punch him in the face against the hard floor.

I stand up and turn to look at the other guy and he gripped his gun. Ben had taken a few steps back making me feel a tad bit more calm. I sprint towards the bad guy somehow catching him off guard and kick him in the balls instantly making him groan and drop down to his knees.

I punch him on the stomach multiple times as hard I can, not able to control myself, almost like I needed to make sure he wouldn't be able to hurt Ben. Then I hear his voice and I feel his hands on my shoulders. "Hey- hey hey it's fine- I'm good now- it's fine." He says with widened eyes as we both look down to see the man with blood coming out of his mouth, his breathing slow.

I step away from the man and try to control my rapid breathing, before turning to Ben and asking in a softer voice, "are you okay?"

"Yeah- me? Oh yeah I'm fine, I'm good- I- uh-thanks..." He trails on and I take a deep breath.

"Black Cat." I say and look down at my masked hands covered with blood.

"Right! Thanks a lot- I uh just didn't expect 'em-" he savs and I cut him off.

"Of course." I say in my normal voice and I mentally curse myself, he can't know.

Suddenly my spidey senses go off and I turn around withdrawing my talons and claw at the guy behind me but not before hearing a gunshot. I feel my heart drop and I widen my eyes looking down at the gun.

I pull it out of the man, his body instantly dropping and turn around to see Ben covering his stomach then slowly starting to fall. I quickly run to him and was able to catch him, as we dropped to the floor, and my hands immediately going to put pressure on his wound but he was losing blood fast. "Hey look at me- B-Ben- keep your eyes on me- please-" I cry out, already feeling the hot tears streaming down my mask.

"'Wha-" he tries to say but I shake my head and bring a hand up to cover his mouth.

I bite my lip and then take my other hand off his stomach. I carefully take off his jacket and make him press it against his stomach. "I-I"

I bring my hands up to take off my mask and I look down at him with a sad smile. His eyes immediately grew wide and he tried to speak again but I shake my head. "You're gonna be okay- I promise-" I whisper and then move my hands back onto his stomach, the jacket already being soaked by his blood.

I swallow back a sob and wipe my tears, trying so hard to remain optimistic, "Don't waste your energy okay? I promise you'll be okay." I say breathless and he just shakes his head.

I feel my heart break into pieces and more hot tears stream down my face. "It's okay." He whispers and holds onto my hands, slightly gripping them.

"N-no- no B-Ben p-please-" I cry out and he lets out a small smile.

"It's... okay..." He says slowly and I see how slow he's breathing now.

I look down at his eyes, and he lightly squeezed my hands and nods. I curse under my breath and shake my head, "I'm so sorry-"

He coughs, some blood coming out, then shakes his head, "it's.. not your... fault..." he whispers making me want to cry even harder.

"I love you." I whisper and hold his hand softly.

"I love you." He murmurs and then his eyes close. His grip on my hands loosened completely and his breathing stopped.

I'd never felt such heartbreak in my life, I've never dealt with instant grief like this, or anger at myself. I cradled him in my arms, now silently crying unable to move and slowly not able to breathe. I started sobbing uncontrollably after looking down at his face, what was always so happy and lively was now never going to look at me, scold me or roll his eyes at me.

I stayed like that for who knows how long until I heard a noise behind me. I turn and look at the man who murdered my best friend, slowly crawling away, letting out groans for every little inch he moved. I move Ben's body to lay down flat on the floor before standing up and taking a few steps towards the fucker who just took my other half from me. I grab him and turn him around, slamming him against the concrete and make him look at me. With pure anger and malice I withdraw my claws and in an instant slash at his face then withdraw a talon again, lifting it up and stabbing him in the heart repeatedly.

I stopped after my arm started to hurt and I looked down at the mess. My body started shaking and I look down at my talon, hands, legs. All covered in blood. I shake my head and walk back to Ben, moving the hair out of his face and making sure his eyes were closed.

I let the tears fall down as I looked at his face, how much I'd miss his contagious laugh, his smile, the way he'd ramble on about his current interest. God I'm gonna miss him.

I was front row at his funeral, holding hands with his mom and sister, I made sure to tell them that the person who took him away from us was dead. They didn't even ask, not wanting to know the details, but were happy that Ben got his justice. But at what cost?

Nothing broke my heart more than hearing his sister tell me that he was on the way to see me, to have a surprise movie night because he missed us just randomly hanging out.

I let more tears fall, as I saw his casket going down, I'd never have my best friend back. What will I do without him?

I let them go as they went to stand by to watch. I let more tears fall as I grip the matching bracelet we had bought years ago when we were in high school. Mine was purple with a charm of some milk, his was blue with a charm of cookies. What was once such a silly little buy between two friends was now another reminder of all our memories together.

I stand up and drop to my knees in front of the designated spot for his grave and look down. Saying my final goodbyes in my head and look up at the sky knowing he'll always be watching over me.

"Jess you said you found a possible new recruit?" Miguel asked looking down at Jess as his platform was going down.

"Yep. You might want to consider her..." she says and walks onto his platform after it fully stopped, handing him the file.

He quickly skims through it then scoffs, "Jess this is a Black Cat variant-"

"Keep reading!" She exclaims and takes a seat on his chair, leaning back against it.

He rolls his eyes but does so anyway considering he trusts Jess' judgement. He keeps reading and suddenly his eyes widen making Jess laugh. "Considering it huh?"

He doesn't say a word, raises an eyebrow, and looks up at her, "when was the last time she did Black Cat activities?"

"Four years ago, exactly today." She responds and he cocks an eyebrow.

"Just keep reading Miguel." She says letting out a sigh.

He groans but looks back down at the paper, now carefully reading through everything. His eyes soften for a singular second before he has a serious look on his face again.

"Go get her." He says as Jess carefully stands up.

"You got it." She says as she takes a step down his platform.

"Just be careful-"

"Yeah yeah-" she says waving him off making him groan.

"I'm serious Jess- Black Cats are unpredictable-"

"Which would make her a great fit here." She retorts and walks out of his office.

It was four years since Ben was shot, you had struggled a lot especially in the beginning. But with all the support of his family, your family, close friends, and tons of therapy, you were able to grieve, and move on with your life but never forgetting your childhood best friend.

I was sitting down next to Ben's grave eating his favorite food, mac and cheese, along with some chocolate nesquik. God he really had the appetite and taste of a five year old.

I shake my head and smile at his grave, "Ben Parker, beloved son, brother, and friend"

"I sure do miss you." I mumble and look up at the sky.

I sigh and scoop up the last of the mac and cheese putting it into my mouth before taking a long sip of the nesquik. I pull the bottle away from my mouth before spilling the rest of it on the grass in front of the grave. "This one's for you." I say and chuckle.

I sigh and lean my back against his grave, looking at all the new dandelions that grew all around. I thought of it as he was giving us something to show he was with us. I let one hand gently caress one and smile.

Suddenly I feel something coming, I quickly stand up and look around. Nothing. I squint my eyes but there was no one around, no car or anything. Then just as I was about to sit back down some weird portal appeared out of thin air.

I straighten up and widen my eyes. I take a step back unsure of how it got here or who was about to come out. I look down at Ben's grave and sigh, quickly do a cross across my forehead and chest. I get in a fighting position when a woman steps out, a pregnant woman at that. I furrow my brows and watch as she steps in front of me cautiously. "Who are you?"

"Call me Jess..." she says and I put my hands down slowly.

"You're a spi-"

"Yep- sorry to be the one to burst your bubble but you aren't-" she starts to say and I gasp.

"The only one." I finish and widen my eyes.

"Wow...." I murmur taking a close look at her suit, it didn't even look like a suit more like a cool outfit.

"And you're pregnant?" I say and look down at her belly.

She nods and smiles, bringing a hand down to gently rub her stomach, "four months." She says softly and I give her a small smile.

"So not to be rude but why are you here? And how?" I ask and cross my arms against my chest.

"Think of this as... recruitment." She says and eyes me up and down.

"Recruitment?" I mumble and shake my head, "for what exactly?" I ask raising an eyebrow.

"You'll find out soon enough." she raises an eyebrow at me, "you have a suit?"

I chuckle and shrug, "haven't really used it in a while...." I say and she smiles.

"Well you're gonna use it now." She says and opens a new portal and motions for me to follow her.

"This might feel a bit weird." She says as she walks in and I slowly follow.

We walk for a bit until another portal opens and it's in... my living room. "Go on, I'll wait." She says and I scoff.

"How the-"

"You don't mind if I get some water do you?" She asks as she walks over to the kitchen.

"Make yourself at home....." I mumble as I walk over to my room then look back to notice the portal was gone. What the fuck.

"Y'know when you said you had a suit, I thought you meant-" Jess starts to say and I cut her off. "My spider woman one?" I say and chuckle, as I turn to look at her and she nods.

We walk out of the portal and are in some kind of lobby, my eyes widen and I gasp. I look around and there's hundreds, maybe thousands of spider people. And animals? "Was that a dinosaur?"

"There's all kinds of spider beings here." She says and I nod.

"Clearly- holy shit-" I say and admire all the different suits, designs and colors people had.

"So why did you decide on wearing this suit?" She asks as she leads the way walking past working spiders.

"Uh well let's just say my other one got fucked in my last fight and I was getting too lazy to fix it." I say and laugh.

"Plus this one was the next best thing.... And gives me more strength." I add and shrug. "And I wanted to see if it still fit..." I mutter and smirk.

"At least you didn't put the wig on...." She says playfully rolling her eyes making me laugh.

"Well you didn't give me much time to." I joke and bring a hand up to my ear to fix my earring.

"So, everyone's boss, Miguel O'Hara, is something special.... Long as you don't flip on us then you'll be fine and he might be alright with you sticking around." She says and I raise an eyebrow.

"So this is gonna be like an interview?" I ask and groan.

"Unfortunately."

I roll my eyes and curse under my breath, "mi suerte." (just my luck)

"Oh and he's Mexican so might have to be careful if you curse at him in Spanish." She says and i scoff.

"You're joking-"

"Nope, so watch that mouth." She warns and making me smirk.

"Then this just might be more fun than I thought." I say keeping the smirk on my face as she just shakes her head.

"Be chill." Jess said as we walked the long hallway to Miguel's office.

"I'll try...." I say and shrug.

"No doors?" I mutter and see all the machinery all over the place as we make a turn and yet another long hallway but with a lot of space at the end of it.

She ignores me as we keep walking and I trail a finger along all the tech things. I walk behind her admiring everything, then see a tool I knew all too well and chuckle. I shrug and grab it, unzipping the front of my suit, hiding it on the underside of my bra before quickly catching up to Jess while I zip my suit back up. You never know when you'll need it.

We walk into a room with a high ceiling and we both stopped and looked up as a platform was coming down, with who I assumed was Miguel. Wow he was huge-

I shake my thoughts away and bite my lip, crossing my arms across my chest and watch as it goes down. So slowly.

I blink and turn to Jess, she just sighs and shrugs, "just be patient."

"That isn't really in my blood...." I whisper and she chuckles.

"Well with him it'll have to be." She says making me roll my eyes.

It eventually came down, his back was facing us which I found to be very distracting... he was very wide, broad, and definitely not like the other Mexican men back in my New York. I bite my tongue and push back my thoughts... for now...

"Why are you wearing that?" He suddenly asks now turning around to face us and I raise an eyebrow. Why?

"Just felt like it." I say sarcastically making him narrow his eyes at me.

He turns to look at Jess and gives her a look, I roll my eyes pretending I didn't see it and take it upon myself to walk around as he steps off to talk to her.

I look up at the orange screens on top of the platform. It was showing tons of video clips, of different spiders but also of people out of their suits? Was this dude stalking people? This looked fucking insane.

I look at a specific screen seeing two teenagers talking, both their eyes filled with admiration and love. Cute.

"Oye gatita-" The voice and snap of Miguel fills my ears and I turn my head to look at him, "no es bueno fisgar." (Hey kitty, it's not good to snoop around)

I smirk and shrug, "just curious."

"Don't care that it killed the cat?" He responds quickly and I laugh.

"Did you already have these ready?" I tease and he rolls his eyes letting out a scoff. This was gonna be fun.

I walk back to him and Jess, looking at them, waiting expectantly. He lets out a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair and looks at me, "so the last time you've robbed anything was four years ago?"

I nod, not exactly shocked he already knew. He did have screens that were practically cameras.

He narrows his eyes at me and I tilt my head to the side keeping my eyes on his. We stayed like that, few feet away from each other just holding each other's gaze.

I was captivated, I couldn't look away because I simply didn't want to. And to not lose this silent staring competition. His eyes were a gorgeous color of red, and like all men, had pretty long lashes. 

It had me thinking of how he was really handsome, the kind you'd find on a night out but not get the chance to ask for his number and you slump all sad for the rest of the night. Or the kind you and all your girlfriends would be fighting over wanting to go talk to him. The kind you'd grow the balls to ask to dance with you or maybe not even ask and just grind up against him-

Suddenly there's a loud clap making us both blink and groan at the same time. "Sorry just wanted to say I'm leaving." Jess says as I turn my head to look at her with a semi-surprised look on her face.

"But I want the credit for bringing her in considering it seems you already don't mind her presence." She adds and I laugh.

I look at Miguel as he scoffs and shakes his head, interesting reaction. "Who said-"

"Alright I'll leave you to it." She cuts him off and turns to me.

I look at her as she puts her hands on my shoulders and leans into my ear, "maybe use your magic on him, to make him less grumpy." She whispers very quietly making me smirk. Ah so he needs a distraction....

I bite my lip to hold back my laughter and just nod as she pulls away, "don't gotta tell me twice." I whisper back and she grins.

"She's a keeper." Jess says turning back to Miguel and he sighs.

"We'll see about that." He mutters and I grin.

Jess gives me a wave as she walks off and I look at Miguel again, "You definitely blinked first."

He shoots me a glare making me snicker, "you're very easy to tick off huh?"

"Shut up." He snarls making me grin.

"I can tell this is the start of a very beautiful relationship." I say and give him a wink.

He rolls his eyes then throws something at me, I catch it with ease and look down at it, a watch. "Welcome to the spider society." He says and goes back up to his platform without another word.

I admire it for a few seconds before quickly slipping it on and smile, wow.

Jess was kind enough to show me the ropes of how to use the watch, more specifically how to make portals to go to my earth and back here. Then she made another spider give me a tour and the overall breakdown, she was very sweet.

"So, Gwen, is it usually busy here?" I ask and turn to the blonde haired girl as she shrugs.

"Depends on the day, sometimes it's chaotic..." she says as we turn to see some spiders in the middle of an argument and she gives me a smile, "but sometimes it's chill."

I laugh and nod, "sure seems like it'd be a good mix of both."

She nods and smiles, "you'll fit right in! And don't mind the stares, there's already not too many women here so they're just-"

"Yeah... y'know what it's fine, could be way worse..." I say and chuckle, already have felt the stares since I got here.

"Trust me I get it, a lot, it'll calm down after a bit." She ensures making me laugh.

"We'll have to see about that, guess I'm not your ordinary spider woman." I mutter, shaking my head in disbelief.

Have these men never seen a woman before?

"It's whatever, but I really didn't expect this many people-" I say and look all around us casually looking at the amount of suits there were.

So many colors.

"Yeah we're a big bunch..." she jokes as we walk around the halls of HQ.

"And Miguel recruited everyone?" I ask turning to look at her.

"Pretty much." She responds letting out a chuckle.

"What a job huh?" She adds and I nod.

"It's a job of it's own." I mutter under my breath just shocked how one man can find and say yes to a shit ton of people.

"His main focus is his work so it shouldn't be too shocking y'know?" She responds and it had me thinking.

Main focus huh? Very, very interesting.

/ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ

It was your second day and after getting a full tour you had gotten your first mission. You caught the anomaly easily and thinking you'd get another one, you went to Miguel's office but he said that was it.

"What do you mean?!?" I ask confused.

"You're still new alright gatita? I'm not going to immediately give you a handful of anomaly's to catch, I'm going to ease you into it." He explains making me groan and roll my eyes to which he sighs.

"If you keep up the momentum of your first mission then maybe I'll give you two per day." He says slowly and I smile.

"So kind of you Miguel." I say and wink at him.

He rolls his eyes making me grin, oooh I love a challenge...

"Entonces Miguel estas soltero o que...." I ask looking up at him, lightly fluttering my lashes at him. (So Miguel are you single or what)

"Get out-"

"Alright alright cálmate- it was just a simple question." I say in an innocent tone biting my lip to not smirk or laugh. (calm down)

He gives me a look and I just ignore it, keeping my eyes on to his pretty crimson ones awaiting an answer. "Why don't you look over some reports for me?" He says and I finally let out a laugh.

"Sure." I respond then chuckle, shaking my head. This might be harder than I thought...

He goes up to his desk and grabs a handful of files, before explaining what I had to keep an eye for and correct or whatever, I wasn't sure, just looking at how huge he was while he rambled and looked at his screens.

I wanted to take another good and close look at him while his back was facing me. I've never seen any of those gym guys back home look like this- I mean he was on a whole other level of jacked and fine...

The muscles on his back extended and became more prominent with every movement and swipe he did on his screens only making me eyes widen and more thoughts coming in to mind.

He would look so fucking good hovering over me- towering over my body looking down at me with those eyes- god those eyes had something in them because I felt like every time I looked I was hooked and couldn't bare looking away for a single second.

The way his biceps were so toned and looked absolutely perfect because of his suit that laid on every curve flawlessly. Every inch of him was just incredible to look at and I might've been drooling a bit from how much I was gawking.

"Gatita pon atención." His voice snaps me out of my thoughts and I slightly jump before quickly gain my composure. Oops. (Pay attention)

"I am-" i retort and he scoffs. I bite my lip looking at the back of his head as he shakes it.

/ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ

"So why can't I go on the mission anymore?" I groan looking up at Miguel while he's typing away on a tablet with Lyla by his shoulder.

"I already told you." He mutters and I scoff.

"You didn't! You just told me I wasn't needed-"

"And I think that's good enough-"

"Well it isn't!" I exclaim and cross my arms against my chest, annoyed and confused.

He ignores me and doesn't even look at me, "Lyla tell Peter B to fill in-"

"Are you fucking kidding me?!?" I scream and roll my eyes.

The fucking audacity of this man-

They keep talking to each other and I just close my eyes and take a deep breath in, because I unlike others know how to control my anger and annoyance. I hear Lyla's chirpy voice disappear and I open my eyes to immediately glare at him. He shakes his head, sighs then turns to me, "no hagas tus berrinches-" (don't throw your tantrums)

"Como no lo voy hacer si no me dejas ir a ayudar!! Estoy aquí para trabajar o no?!?" I retort and groan. (How am I not going to do it if you don't let me go and help!! Am I here to work or no?!?)

“You are-"

"Then???" I question and groan.

It's been a week since I got here and everyone's been cool and helpful. Except for him.

It was like he was my number one hater and couldn't fathom the fact that I was actually serious about wanting to help people. If he had his doubts why did he even bother let me join the society?

"You still don't trust me? Is that it?" I say and he stays quiet.

I roll my eyes and sigh, "I haven't even given you a reason not to." I mutter and walk out of his office.

"Then prove me wrong." I hear him mutter and just continue walking.

/ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ

I was sat on Miguel's desk waiting for him to get back from his mission to hand deliver him my first set of reports. I went over each other making sure everything was correct, slowly growing bored as he was dragging ass.

"Waiting for Miguel hun?" Lyla appears in front of me and I nod.

"He'll be a while more." She says and leans in looking at me intently.

"Jess said they were finishing up so i thought I'd wait." I say looking at her tiny body and she raises an eyebrow.

"You literally see the papers on me right now-" I say and she sticks a finger up shutting me up.

"I didn't accuse you of anything..." she responds making me scoff.

"But all of you are so paranoid for no reason anyway! I stopped my bullshit years ago." I mutter and cross my leg over the other.

"Then what about the flirting?" She asks widening her eyes and moves her face closer.

"That's just in my blood." I retort and shrug trying not to sound smug about it. I mean how could I resist?

She hums and closes an eye, widening the other just staring me down. I roll my eyes and play with a piece of my hair twirling it between my fingers while she's trying to read me, figure me out. I sigh and look at her, "well can you really blame me?"

Suddenly she snickers and shakes her head as I smirk and shrug again, no way she could deny it either....

"Hmm I guess." She says nonchalantly then we both turn to the entrance of Miguel's office to hear his footsteps.

She turns to me and puts her fingers to her lips and pretends to seal them then gives me a wink before turning to look at Miguel again, "kitty is here to see you."

I chuckle and hop off the desk as Miguel walks up to his platform and looks at me expectantly, I hold the reports up to him and he takes them from me quickly reading through them.

"Lyla mute all notifications for the next hour unless it's an absolute emergency." He tells her then looks back at me.

"Sure thing boss." She chirps, giving me a quick wink then disappears.

"You've been doing fairly decent..." he says almost hesitantly.

"Don't be so shocked Miguel, I'm obviously here to get work done." I say and shrug, straightening up.

"I see you are." He mutters and walks towards me then puts my stack of reports on the desk behind me.

I try my hardest to ignore our close proximity, knowing if I pay attention to it I will start having immediate thoughts I shouldn't be having.

"You've surprised me." He says looking down at me as we're merrily a few feet away from each other.

"How so?" I ask and cross my arms against my chest.

He shrugs and takes another step closer, I bite the inside of my cheek lightly and hold my breath looking up at him curiously. "Just thought you'd be a bigger problem for me."

That sounded like a double entendres.... interesting..

"I can behave when I want to." I say taking a step forward, getting closer to him and feeling my heart race.

"I find that hard to believe." He mutters making me smirk.

He didn't have to say another word. He wants a problem, he can get it.

I take the final step forward, our bodies so close to touching, I slowly bring a hand up to his neck then lightly trail along his collarbone. His breath hitches but he quickly regains composure, not moving nor pushing me away. I bring my other hand up and trail along his shoulders slowly.

Our eyes were locked the entire time but his eyes were softly fluttering and his chest was heaving the slightest bit. I smile sweetly at him and then bring my hands up to wrap them around his neck, removing the tiniest bit of space between us. I lean up a bit, lightly breathing against his lips, then lean in as if I was going to kiss him and only pulling away after our lips were millimeters apart. "Maybe I don't want to." I whisper and let our lips touch very lightly for a split second then pull away.

"Or maybe I do." I whisper then let go of him completely and take a step back looking at his very shocked expression.

"Cat got your tongue?" I tease making him groan.

He takes a step forward and wrapping his arm around my waist then turns me around. I gasp in shock then he quickly brings a hand up to my throat, making the back of my head hit his chest. His other arm was wrapped around my stomach as I felt his breath on my nose and a shiver travels down my body when his hand that was on my throat was off for a second to move my hair back. He leans down and leaves a soft kiss on my neck. Oh fuck.

He placed his hand back on my throat, barely squeezing making me wish he'd just apply a bit more pressure.  Sadly he doesn't read my mind but does leave more soft kisses up and down my neck making my heart beat out of my chest.

"Think you're hot shit teasing me like this gatita?" He growls in my ear making me bite my lip.

I squeeze my thighs together subconsciously rubbing my ass against his crotch. He groans and moves his hips, grinding himself against me. I let out a shaky breath and feel my eyes fluttering, he moves his hand from my stomach down to my thigh. He lightly squeezed the right one then moved to squeeze the left. "Tan bonita." He whispers in my ear making me moan. (so pretty)

Suddenly he lets go of me completely and I can no longer feel him on me, at all. I turn around seeing him with the cockiest smirk I've ever had the displeasure of having to look at and groan then roll my eyes. "Two can play at that game gatita." He teases as I clear my throat and give him a sweet smile.

"Then just make sure it's one you know you'll win." I say then walk out of his office feeling so empty and needy...

/ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ

Anytime you had the opportunity to be alone with Miguel you took it, made sure to keep teasing him like he'd tease you.

At first it was innocent "accidental" touches like hands brushing against each other or even catching each others gaze.

Then it swiftly changed from that to you purposefully bending over to get something. As well as grinding yourself on him in crowded rooms to get past him.

He'd repay it back by snaking his arm around your waist then let his hands wander for a few seconds before letting go. At some point he couldn't handle all the teasing and would smack your ass whenever you both were alone.

You were going back and forth for days on end and it really shocked you considering he almost didn't even want you there, based on how Jess told you her conversation with him went.

But you were glad you were able to prove him wrong, and somehow were able to get him to flirt with you back, felt like a miracle considering what the other spiders were telling you about him. But you weren't going to complain.

Definitely won't complain.

I was coming back from my earth after finally deciding on giving my wig a go again, mostly because I loved the feeling of the long ponytail swinging back and forth when fighting. And for everyone's immersion since people were still staring.

Maybe I should fix up my other suit... though it's more fun to be in this one...

I shrugged my thoughts away and walk around, heading towards the training room simply minding my business when I walk past one of the many gyms and take a quick peek because my spidey senses went off.

I peep through the window and smirk, Miguel was in there. Perfect.

Impeccable timing.

I open the door and walk in, walking towards him then lean on the pull up machine Miguel was using and watch as he lifts himself up and down. The sweat glistening off his biceps and shoulders, absolutely perfection for my hungry eyes.

He continues his reps not paying attention to me at all which I didn't really mind, considering he was the perfect eye candy. I take a step back and walk behind him almost moaning at the sight, his back muscles and the way they were stretching and tightening with every movement.

It wasn't the first time I saw him shirtless but something about seeing his bare skin just had my mind and body going wild every time. He was different than any of the men I've ever seen or seduced back home which had me feeling excited because this was like brand new ground, or more so fresh meat. I couldn't help but want him.

I bite my lip and just stand there watching in awe and unable to peel my eyes from him. I take a step to the other end of the machine and lean against it, him still not stopping and letting out occasional grunts.

God he sounded as good as he looks...

He side eyes me and looked away before doing a double take and stopping, hanging off the machine for a second before letting go and standing in front of me with an eyebrow raised, letting out a chuckle then a smirk forming on his lips. "Silver looks good on you, gatita."

"Crees que si Miggy?" I ask and do an exaggerated little twirl then flip my hair back. (Think so?)

"Absolutamente." He breathes out making me smirk. (Absolutely)

"Thought everyone would like it." I say and give him an innocent smile.

I bat my lashes up at him as he grabs a towel from the bench behind us and wipes down the sweat from his forehead. He looks so fucking good.

I kept my eyes on his, fighting my dirty thoughts like wanting to trail down his body but somehow remaining focused on his eyes. "Nomas te encanta la atención huh?" He teased and I chuckle. (You just love the attention huh?)

I shrug them nod, "Tal ves... pero no creo que me puedes culpar..." I say and take a step closer to him, reaching a hand up to trail along his bicep. (Maybe... but I don't think you can blame me...)

"Menos porque agarre tu atención." I whisper and smile. (Especially because I got your attention)

"Siempre tienes mi atención gatita." He murmurs as he snakes his hands around my waist pulling me closer to him. (You always have my attention)

I felt my heart race as well as a familiar heat arose in my core, I needed him. Badly.

I wrap my arms behind his neck and look deeply into his eyes, he wants this just as much as I do. I can feel it.

I feel myself leaning in and watch as he does the same, our lips now millimeters apart from each other, craving for just a small taste. My stomach was fluttering as I felt him softly breathing on my nose, my face getting warm and I didn't even mind.

We both lean in at the same time, our lips finally meeting in a slow dance together. I couldn't help the small smile that popped up when he kissed me back softly, it felt so right.

Suddenly my spidey senses went off and I pulled away, taking my hands off him. I turn to look at the entrance of the gym and sure enough was Peter B Parker walking in mumbling to himself with Mayday chilling on his shoulder. I let out a disappointed sigh, shaking my head as I hear Miguel groan and see him gritting his teeth out of the corner of my eye.

I clear my throat and turn to him, "I guess I'll catch you soon."

I walk past Peter and lightly ruffing Mayday's hair then turn my head to look at Miguel giving him a wink before turning back and walk out.

So close.

/ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ

You were assigned on a mission to capture a Kingpin who wasn't where he was meant to be, along with Peter B Parker who had accompanied you because he didn't have Mayday with him that day and apparently wanted some thrill on the random Wednesday night.

You were prepared and ready to do whatever it took to get him, and already mentally prepared to possibly use some charm if needed...

And you'd already escaped him once so surely you could capture just as easily as he did you.

"Peter what kind of surprise attack is that?!?" I yell and groan, swinging away from the hidden position I was in at the bank Kingpin was at. Peter just had to announce we were here...

"I couldn't help myself! The big guy was rambling on and on to himself-" Peter starts to defend himself but gets cut off by said big guy going in for a punch to his face but he quickly backs up and gasps.

"That was not cool-" Peter tells Kingpin, pointing a finger in his face then shoots balls of webs at his face making him growl.

"Y'know he's not the only one who rambles to himself..." i mutter and snort thinking of the events from yesterday.

"Oh yeah! Y'know I wanted to ask you about that, what's going on between you and Miguel?" He asks looking up to face me as I look down with an unamused look on my face.

Normally I would've told him, but after yesterday no fucking way!! How could a man be a cockblock like that and expect to still get gossip??

"Nothing..." I say casually and jump down from the railing and onto Kingpin's back.

He starts moving back and I climb up his long back and shoot out ropes of webs and wrap them around his throat. "Then why do his eyes light up every time you enter a room?" He says and folds his arms against his chest in front of us.

My eyes widen and I almost stop webbing when I snap myself out of it and shake my head, "do they now?"

"Maybe... maybe not but now curiosity's gonna kill the cat huh?" He teases and I roll my eyes. Devious little fucker.

"Well...." I start but Peter immediately opens his mouth. "Ha! I knew you wanted to spill-"

"Who the fuck is Miguel-" Kingpin breaths out and tries to pull on the webs which just makes me tug on them harder.

"Shut up!"

"Cállate pendejo!!" (Shut up asshole)

Peter then webs his entire body, swinging around all the empty space of the bank and making sure it was extra tight so he couldn't get away. I jumped off and stood in front of Kingpin who looked only slightly different than the one from my earth. Still had a huge ass body and annoying but he looked much younger.

"Easy!" Peter exclaims and pretends to wipe off dirt from his suit.

"So...." Hs says and wiggle his eyebrows at me.

I burst out laughing, shaking my head in disbelief that he wanted to know so badly. I mean surely he talked to Miguel after I left?

"So what Peter?" I ask and look down at my watch, pressing a few buttons and watch a portal spawn in front of us.

He grabs the ends of the rope and begins tugging Kingpin towards the portal. "Well obviously there's tension... there's something there." He says and I merrily smile.

"It's complicated but it makes perfect sense for us i guess." I respond and shrug walking into the portal with Peter following right behind me.

A portal opens at HQ, luckily right where we drop the anomalies to the go home machine. Some spiders jog over to us and put Kingpin in a force field cage before taking him away.

I sigh and turn around only to have Peter looking at me with narrowed eyes and his hands on his hips. "Peter-"

"I wanna know how bad I should feel for interrupting the moment yesterday." He says making me shake my head laughing.

"Peter it's fine-"

"Tell me."

I sigh and shrug, "I don't even know myself. I mean I guess we're both flirty?"

"So it's mutual?" He asks and I shrug again.

"Very interesting..." he says and brings a hand up to exaggeratedly pretend to rub his invisible beard.

"Yeah people keep saying that...." I say raising an eyebrow at him and he finally looks at me normally.

"Well I'd say give it a shot, grumpy men need some lovin' too y'know?" He replies with the most serious tone ever.

I chuckle and nod, "yeah I guess we'll see..."

"Just have patience with him." He says and I sigh.

"I will."

/ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ

You had a mission then another straight after, the first being a breeze but the second being much harder than expected.

A Doc Ock, much stronger than you had anticipated, and you thought you had it under control. You had to think fast to save yourself.

I widened my eyes when I felt a tentacle quickly grab me from behind, thinking I had maneuvered fast enough him to not catch me. I was wrong.

I groan as it slams me against a wall then makes another go to my throat and repeatedly punches me with a third. The tentacle around my body had a very tight grip on me, and i didn't have any choice but just to take it.

With every punch from the metal tentacle I felt more and more pain on my cheek and jaw, my skin felt hot, it was starting to sting and I could taste the blood in my mouth.

Thinking quickly and before losing consciousness, I have in mind of giving good ole Doc some bad luck. It usually took a while but right now I didn't have time so I just closed my eyes and thought of all the possible bad luck that could happen to this man right now.

My spider senses go off making my eyes shoot open as I look up to see a billboard above us falling down towards us. He raised an eyebrow at me and look up as well, his grip loosened for a singular second which was enough for me to slip out of his grasp before harshly pushing him out of the way.

We both fell a couple feet away as the billboard fell where we just were within seconds. I let out a deep breath before standing up and quickly use my webs to tie him up. I walk behind him as he groans and press a little button behind his neck and see as the tentacles detach from him.

I sigh and gather them before webbing them up together then press the buttons on my watch to spawn the portal. I grab him by his collar and make him stand up as I drag the tentacles by the end of my web.

I walk us through the portal and it opens up to where we put anomalies after capturing. A few spiders come up to me and quickly take him and putting him and his tentacles in a force field like cage.

I sigh and wipe my forehead, suddenly feeling the pain on my face. Shit.

I bring a hand up to my cheek and am instantly met with blood, i sniffle, slowly feeling some blood drip down onto my lip. I groan and quickly swing away heading to the medical center to put on some bandaids.

I drop down and walk in, looking for an available room to go in quick then leave. I make a turn and accidentally bump into someone. "My bad." I mumble not looking up and went around whoever I bumped into until I'm yanked back.

I yelp then look up to see Miguel and sigh, "Oh sorry Miguel-"

He looks at me for a millisecond before interrupting, "Come with me." He grabs my hand leading me towards a room.

I groan but follow anyway, not really having a choice since he was practically dragging me with him. He peeps through a door then walks in with me right behind him. He lets go of my hand and motions for me to sit down, which I oblige not really in a mood to argue or protest.

He quickly collects stuff from a cabinet then walks back to me. He puts the alcohol, bandages and gauze down next to me before bringing a hand up to my face slowly. His fingers grab my mask gently, and he peels it off making me groan as I bring a hand to the bridge of my nose. I feel his hand gently on my chin, moving it up, "it's not that bad..." I mutter, mostly trying to convince myself that the pain could be worse.

I lightly bite my lip, tasting the blood as I look up at his eyes, trying so hard to not look worried. He looks away and grabs the bottle of rubbing alcohol and putting some on a gauze pad. I sigh and place my hands on my lap as he brings the pad up to my forehead hesitantly. "I can handle it Miguel." I say looking into his eyes again.

He nods and places it on the wide wound I had along my forehead, remembering how many other bruises and slashes I had was the only thing distracting me from the stinging of the alcohol. Soon enough the pad was off and he had opened a bandage and placed it over the wound before gently placing a hand along my jaw and looking at my cheek.

He pulls away and gets another pad, adding alcohol to it then looks into my eyes. I nod slowly and he puts the pad against my cheek, it instantly burning making me fight back tears and a groan. He bit his lip fully concentrated as he wiped along the wound carefully and I couldn't help but think of how gorgeous he was. At a time like this?

Well to be honest I couldn't think of a better scenario for us.

He places the bloody pad down and opens another bandage, it being slightly bigger this time and gently placed it on my cheek. He sighs and rubs his finger against the bandage softly, making me melt into his touch. "The rest are just little scratches, but take a rest day tomorrow, I'm not giving you any missions and it's not up for debate." He says sternly and I just sigh.

"I guess..." I mumble and he pulls his hand away making me frown.

It felt nice.

A silence filled the room as we looked at each other, my mind going straight to our short lived kiss from the other day. His lips were so soft and warm, I had still felt their touch lingering after I pulled away and there's nothing I've wanted more than to feel them again. It's all I've been thinking about even on missions, it's always in the back part of my mind.

I couldn't help it, out of all the men I've flirted with in the past he was just different than all of them combined. He was attentive, and stern but sweet when he wanted to be. I've grown closer to him in the past few weeks and even if it's unexpected for everyone, for me it feels great. It feels right and I couldn't get him out of my head if i wanted to.

With the way he was looking at me I felt like he was thinking about it as well. Lips parted staring down at my own while I looked at his eyes then down at his lips. I lightly bit mine and feel a sense of nervousness in my stomach. This effect he has on me was intense. Now more than ever.

He cleared his throat making me look back up to his eyes, his pretty crimson eyes that I could stare into forever if I could. "How are you feeling?"

I shrug and clear my throat as well trying to hide my thoughts, "I'm fine, just hurts a little." I say making him nod.

Another silence.

He coughed and took a step back, his eyes seemed almost worried which had me a tad bit confused, my wounds weren't too bad and I know he has had worse. Unless.... he was starting to care?

"I'm serious about no missions tomorrow-"

"I know."

He sighs and folds his arms across his chest, this almost feels like it's going to turn into a lecture. Or something along those lines...

"What's bothering you Miguel?" I ask and he shakes his head.

Right as he opens his mouth I interrupt him knowing he'll try to lie, "No digas que nada porque ya te conozco mejor." I say and point a finger at him. (Don't say nothing because now I know you better)

He shakes his head again and sighs, I raise an eyebrow and feel my heart beat faster as he takes a step closer to me. "I just-"

He sighs and faces me, looking me directly in the eye, "I can't get you out of my mind and I hate it."

I bite my lip and nod, "I haven't stopped thinking of that kiss," I say and reach out to grab his arm, pulling him towards me, "but I don't hate it." I whisper and spread my legs so he can stand right between.

"Gatita..." he murmurs and I just hum, innocently wrapping my legs around his waist and pull him in as closely as I could.

"We shouldn't...." He whispers looking away, but I took notice of the redness in his cheeks and the way he wasn't shoving me away as a good sign.

"But you want to.." I whisper back and he sighs.

I bring my hands up and wrap them behind his neck, making him visibly breathe harder, "estas bien Miguel... just let me..." I whisper inches away from his lips. (You're okay)

I then lean in and peck his lips, testing the waters out, when I felt him kiss back I started kissing him with no worries. I felt his hands go down to my thighs, lightly squeezing as I brought mine up to his chest.

He squeezed my inner thigh and with the other hand brought it up to cup my cheek, kissing me so gently. I trace around his chest and trail up to his collarbone when he pulls away making me pout but he moved my head back and to the side. His lips then latched on to my neck making me gasp at the quickness he was moving but it was perfect.

He leaves kisses all over my skin while one hand continued squeezing my thigh and the other was now by my lower back, sneaking it's way down to my ass. I let out a sigh and bring my hands up to grip his curls as he chooses a spot for him to mark.

"Am I a problem for you now?" I ask out of breath and bite my lip to fight off the laughter.

He groans and pulls away to look at me, i fight back the urge to laugh as he rolls his eyes then sheepishly smiles. I grin and pull him in for another kiss which he doesn't complain about.

Until he pulls away and grabs me carefully, making me step off the bed, bringing me down to my knees. I fight back a moan and look up at him, batting my lashes at him.

Suddenly the lower half of his suit disappears and with that revealing his cock. Long and thick, already dripping precum as it sprung up and hit his stomach. My eyes were wide and I may as well have been drooling. Wow.

I quickly get to work, grabbing the base of it and licking off the precum that was falling off to the side and down a vein. I lick it off slowly while looking him directly in the eyes, making him moan and tilt his head back.

I smile, going back up to the tip I give it a few kisses before sticking my tongue out and lightly slap it on my tongue. "No juegues conmigo gatita-" he says and I pout. (Don't play with me)

"De verdad ya estas tan desesperado?" I tease and he groans. (Are you really already so desperate?)

"Me vas a matar-" he mutters but I cut him off by taking him on my mouth, slowly taking him in. (You're gonna kill me)

He moans and shakes his head then groans, "Tómalo- tómalo todo gatita-" (Take it, take it all)

I take more of him, feeling my mouth already be filled and I was barely getting halfway. I controlled my breathing as best as I could and took another inch, now feeling his tip nearing my throat.

I move my head back and forth, trying to keep up a decent pace but considering how thick he was, I was struggling. But he didn't seem to mind.

Suddenly he thrusts his hips making me gag on it and I quickly pull back then move my head forward taking as much of him as I could take down my throat. He moans and I feel his hands on my head, making me stay in place.

He groans then lets me go as I pull it out of my mouth and showcase all the drool that was dribbling down my mouth and on to my suit. I slap it on my tongue again then give him a wide smile as I wipe the drool from my chin.

Then back to business I take his cock in my mouth and start deep throating him again, feeling more comfortable now. I look up at him and see him with his mouth open, letting out groans then biting his lip. He is fucking incredible.

"God I can't believe this is finally happening- you have no idea how many times I've thought about this- just s-stroking myself thinking of y-you on your k-knees like this." He confesses and grabs my hair, pushing me deeper. "Just for me." He breathes out and groans.

I moan against him and squeeze my thighs feeling the arousal between my legs swirl around in my panties. He's stroked himself thinking of me on my knees? I couldn't believe what he just said, am I dreaming? How is this real? How'd I get so lucky?

I move my head faster and kept my hands to my sides as i made sure to take every inch of him. How could I disappoint him after he's had wet dreams about me? I couldn't do that...

I close my eyes, feeling them brink with tears as he now started to fuck my throat slowly. The little hairs at the end of his happy trail tickling my nose every time he thrusted all the way and stayed there a few seconds.

He groaned and continued thrusting into my mouth still holding onto my hair like it were helping him. I just let him and felt myself growing more and more wet as this continued on.

I open my eyes and feel a few tears slip but then notice Miguel's legs were shaking and he was slowing down. I felt giddy that was I able to take him and make him cum when he suddenly pulls away, slipping himself out of my mouth making me whine. "Miguel you were about to-"

"I don't care-" he growls and reaches down, grabbing my arms pulling me up with him.

He then turns me around and bends me over the bed making me yelp. He moves my hair to the side and starts undoing my suit. He zips it down as fast but carefully as he could and when it got down to the bottom which was by my lower back, his hands quickly came up to start taking it off.

His hands went straight to my shoulders peeling the spandex off as i was taking it off my fingers, god this suit was so frustrating.

He groans as I fumble with the spandex on my right hand and I bite my lip, "How mad would you be if I ripped your suit?" He asks and I scoff.

"You mean my only suit?" I say and finally manage to slip it off every finger.

He groans again and takes the sleeves off my arms then brings it down my body slowly as I lift myself up a bit. He's taking it off my stomach, then down to my hips when I head him take a deep breath when he finally brings it up and over my ass revealing my red thong.

I then feel a hard smack against it making me jump and moan,  fuck.

"Te gusta eh?" He teases and I feel myself melt into the bed, speechless and in awe. (You like that)

He's so perfect-

"Contéstame." He demands then gives me another smack, this one stinging more than the first, leaving my legs shaking a bit. (Answer me)

"Si- si me gusta..." I whine and lay my face into the bed. (Yes- yes I like it...)

"No fallas de sorprenderme gatita." He murmurs and gently rubs my ass. (You don't fail to surprise me)

I move my head to the side and chuckle, "Es bueno verdad?" I ask quietly and he hums. (That's good right?)

"Ni te imaginas..." he responds and blows a bit of air against my aching cunt. (you can't even imagine...)

I take a deep breath in, not at all prepared for whatever he has in mind. I didn't think we'd ever actually get anywhere near this...

But I couldn't deny how happy I felt that it was happening...

Definitely worth the wait.

"Estas tan hermosa gatita." He whispers and I felt a kiss against the back of my thigh. (You're so gorgeous)

My cheeks immediately grow warm and I just sigh, feeling his fingers slip onto my folds. I feel my eyes flutter as he continues his slow movements, tormenting me. "Miguel por favor." I whine and move my hips up, needing more. (please)

"Paciencia nena." He coos softly and teases my entrance with the tip of his finger. (Patience baby girl)

"Please-" I whine, earning myself a hard smack against my ass.

A whimper escapes my lips when he suddenly slips a finger inside, excruciatingly slow. But how the hell could a singular finger feel so fulfilling? Even if he wasn't moving it yet...

I close my eyes and bring my ass up, making sure to arch my back with my head still against the bed. "Good girl." He whispers softly and adds a second finger.

I couldn't help the moans that came out as he slowly starts to finger fuck me, my arousal enveloping his fingers as he starts to pump them faster. I didn't think his fingers would feel this fucking good otherwise I would've tried harder to get him to fuck me. I feel myself clench against his fingers with my thighs shaking to top it off.

"Miguel~"

He hums and pushes them deeper then curling them up to hit that spot that has me practically seeing stars. I let out some whimpers and let myself be fully indulged in the moment.

I lazily lay down, ass still somewhat in the air with him still fucking me but now my stomach was now directly on the bed. His fingers continued going deep but he was going faster now and it was getting hard to control the noises that left my mouth.

Deep down I didn't care if we were caught, i don't think either of us would want to stop, but still I knew I should keep my volume somewhat quiet. Especially considering we were in the medical area where there's likely to be tons of spiders getting fixed up.

And the fact that we definitely shouldn't be doing this here specifically...

My thoughts are cut short when I don't feel his fingers inside me anymore, giving Miguel my full undivided attention I turn my head around to look at him, "What the fuck-"

My breath hitches in my throat when I feel the tip of his cock rubbing against my wet folds. I feel my pussy clench onto absolutely nothing as he continues swirling his tip with my arousal. "Miguel-" I breathe out, letting out a shaky moan.

"So fucking soaked." He mutters under his throat and moves his tip down to my aching clit.

He rubs circles against it instantly earning himself whimpers slip out from me. I move my head back facing forward again, covering my mouth and biting my lip as an extra precaution but it was so hard being quiet when he was teasing me like that. "Fuck-" he moans as he positions himself, now feeling his tip by my entrance.

He pushed into me slowly making me bite my hand, really trying my hardest to stay quiet. After the past weeks we've been tormenting each other and all the possible sexual tension that's been building, he was finally fucking me. I finally had him where I wanted him all along and it was so fucking good. Perfect even.

I was able to feel myself stretch around him and he just felt better than I'd have ever imagined. He stretched me out but fit oh so perfectly and it was as if he was a missing puzzle I so desperately needed.

He grunted as he buttomed out and brought his hands down to my hips, helping me bounce against him. I lifted my lower half up, now no longer lazily laying down. He digs his fingers into my skin as he pulls back then slams right back into me.

I let out a whimper as he moaned and finally started moving, at first slowly fucking into me before he suddenly started pounding into me. I cried against my hand and bit my lip again, it's like he wanted me to make noise, or to let us get caught.

Not this time.

He let out strings of groans and moans as he continued his fast pace, not having a care in the world if we're heard. "Me estás tomando tan bien gatita." He moaned out and left a hard smack against my ass. (You're taking me so well)

I whimpered and felt myself clench against him, making the both of us moan at the same time. I was already noticing my vision get blurry and my legs feeling like jelly all while he thrusted his hips into me not ever stopping or slowing down but instead going harder.

"Shit! Miguel- se siente tan rico-" I whine and press my cheek against my hands now freely letting out moans. Fuck it. (feels so good)

"Ya se mami, ya se." He groans and I feel one of his hands grasp onto my ponytail. (I know, I know)

He pulls my hair tugging it a bit so I move my head back making him moan and completely stop, but buried deep inside me. I whimper at the loss of his pounding but then gasp as he brings me up carefully with his other hand and letting go of my hair.

I was now sitting up right on my knees with him still inside me, I felt a shiver run through my body as he brought his arms up and wrapped them around my waist. "You're so beautiful." He whispers in my ear, leaving a small kiss against my neck.

He brings a hand down to my stomach, right where the bulge of him was. He presses lightly making me sigh and lay my head against his hard chest. "You feel so perfect baby." He murmurs and I bite my lip then bring my hands to wrap them around his arms for stability.

"Y te ves tan perfecta." He purrs making me melt into him. (And you look so perfect)

"Miguel-"

"Shh..." he hushes and moved the hand from my stomach and brings it up, grazing my skin softly.

His hands lands on to my left breast, he squeezed it gently then moved his hips back. I sigh and grip onto his arms as he slams back into me making me moan in surprise. "Mi-"

Finally deciding where to leave his hands over my body he starts moving again, thrusting his hips into me as he holds a steady grip on my body. My tits bounced in the same rhythm he was fucking me and it already felt so overstimulating. He pinched my left nipple and moaned out sweet little nothings into my ear as he kept his pace and making sure I wouldn't just drop onto the bed.

His body towered over me even though I was on top of the bed, taking notice of his size compared to mine was starting to make my head spin. He was just so tall and wide, buff even, I was much smaller compared to him and it made me shake in pure excitement. I've never had a man of his stature just ravage me like he was doing right now and that thought alone was pushing me closer and closer to the edge.

"Just like that Miguel-" I breathe out but then feel a hand against my throat cutting me off.

"Fuck baby you're taking me so well." He groans and lightly squeezes my throat.

What sounded like a muffled whimper slipped from my lips making his hand around my waist grip me tighter. He rammed into me as if there was no tomorrow and I gladly let him. In what world would I tell him to stop?

"This is what you wanted isn't it gatita? Hmm?" He grunts and I nod.

"Just needed me to manhandle you and take you how I want." He mutters and another combination of a cry and moan leaves my lips. Holy fuck-

The mixed sounds of our joint moans of pleasure and him senselessly pounding into me filled my ears and I couldn't think of better things I could possibly listen to.

His hold on me made it seem as if he thinks I'd disappear out of thin air if he let me go, it wasn't a complaint more of an observation that had me squeezing his arms, needing him as close to me as possible.

He finally let go of my throat which made me breathe in then pant followed by whines as he snaked that hand down to my clit, rubbing slow circles against it. My back arches against him and I subconsciously tilt my head to the side which he quickly took advantage of and latched his lips onto my neck.

He sucked feverishly and I felt my eyes flutter at the overstimulation. He moans against my skin before licking the new branded mark. I bring a hand up to his face and look up at him, as if reading my mind he smashed his lips onto mine in a needing passionate kiss.

I kissed back as best as I could, feeling my legs slowly give up on me but his grip on me never loosened and his pace now slowing down. I felt him twitch inside me and i quickly felt my orgasm approaching, that all too familiar feeling in my tummy that has made my legs become a shaking mess and my sex leaving a creamy ring against Miguel's base with every thrust.

He slipped his tongue into my mouth and I tried to match his energy but that knot in my stomach was ready to explode. And it did.

My walls pulsating against him as my orgasm washed over my entire body, leaving me a shaking mess on him. I let out cries in his mouth as he gently held on to me and moaned into my mouth as well, feeling him shoot ropes of his warm cum deep inside me. He pulled away and gently pecked my lips which i happily reciprocated.

We pulled away, he leaned his forehead against my head as we both caught our breath. I felt my heartbeat calm down as he held me now gently. I didn't even notice when his hand moved from my clit to properly hold me but I just ignored it and melted into his arms.

He then slips out of me making me whimper at the empty feeling but look down to see his cum oozing out of me and onto the poor medical bed. I stifle a laugh and look into Miguel's eyes, he was already looking at me. I feel my cheeks burn up and I can't help but sheepishly grin, him returning it back.

He lets me go and sets me down on the edge of the bed then sits down next to me. He wraps his arm around my shoulder and I instantly snuggle up to his chest making him move his arms to wrap them around my body.

"You did so good gatita." He whispers and I nod, my breathing now completely normal but now feeling butterflies all over my skin.

"It was about time, don't ya think?" I joke quietly and he laughs.

I sigh and just listen to the thumps of his heartbeat as he caresses my hair gently and leaves kisses on the top of my head. He really was perfect.

[thesecondsanctuary]

follow up to the bad driving post from yesterday. explanations under cut also feel free to argue with me lol

So basically top left = characters who drive badly but not in a way that will cause a crash, top right = characters who are actually all things considered good at driving, bottom left = characters who should not be behind the wheel ever, bottom right = characters who are good drivers in theory/most of the time, but certain factors can make them become car crash material.

Dalv: In my mind, Dalv is the most cautious and safe driver ever, to the point where he loops back around to being a shit driver. You do not want to get stuck in a lane behind this guy he will not go even CLOSE to the speed limit. He will probably let you through when he has right of way. etc etc. Ig on the bright side he doesnt get into enough situations where a car crash could really occur? yay?

El Bailador: Kind of guy who drives windows down music blaring probably speeding slightly at all times but somehow has never had anything bad happen to him. he is being protected by higher powers because he is sooooooo nice and cool :)

Ace: Ridicules all his friends for being bad drivers then actually gets behind the wheel and he sucks almost as bad. Yk, given how his whole thing in the Wild East is facepalming at the five's antics while arguably being worse than a lot of them in that regard. Why are you encouraging a child to gamble. Why are you tormenting blackjack with mooch. Whats his problem

Edward: Okay I didnt really know where to put Ed.. Hes in a weird situation where,, i think his biggest problem would be finding a car thats actually suited to him. Like how he wants to play the guitar but his hands are too big to actually play any of the ones they have. After that though, I think he'd be pretty good, at least decent! He does have some anger issues to deal with (beat up blembino that one time lol) that could cause problems but hes working on it :)

Moray: Pretty self explanatory. The most normal feisty five member. Probably their designated driver 90% of the time. The only reason theyre not completely top is bc their one weakness is whilst they ARE the voice of reason, they do ultimately go along w the group most of the time even if they feel whats happening is wrong. Maybe picks up on the five's bad habits a bit? Overall still a trustworthy pick for driver i think.

Flowey: Ok.do not take this too seriously..............Ik he doesnt have feet for th pedals but consider. Its funny. He can use his vines trust me (also even if he cant physically drive i feel like he'd have a really good understanding of driving. guy who has read every book is bound to have useless knowledge on topics that arent at all relevant to him. and you cant crash the car if youre not driving i guess!!!!!!!!!! but also. funny.)

Ceroba: Similar case as Ed. Actually good at driving but holy fuck the road rage. I feel she'd be worse at responding to it than him bc she has so little self respect. very "I will kill us both😳" attitude abt tailgating and shit like that. Usually better at keeping it in when shes driving with someone else.

Martlet: Maybe she should be furthest down bc she is the only one to canonically crash a vehicle…, Idk I feel like she’d be sliiiightly better w a car where her focus has to be constantly checked, she cant get distracted while filling in questionnaires with clover if she’s driving. That being said she is still. Yeah.

Mooch: similar to mart. Just cannot see her being a good driver. Sorry girl </3

Starlo: starlo.

Axis: faceplanted right in the center bc hes a wild card to me. Would he have insufferable road rage? Would he actually be pretty chill and responsible? Can he even drive if his foot is a singular wheel? Who knows.